The Boy Who Survived
by Azure K Mello
Summary: A caring stalker and Harry Potter need to work through a minefield of problems to be happy in each other's company.
1. 1

Title: The Boy Who Survived  
  
Writer: Azure K Mello  
  
Part:1/?  
  
Pairing: Draco/Harry (kinda)  
  
Warning: I've called this angst for the mental state of our hero. It's too bleak to be anything else. Slash, self mutilation, abuse, rape, self loathing.  
  
Angela, thank you for making this not suck.. You seem to be able to shred something and then like a phoenix a much, much better story raises from the ashes.  
  
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I hate it when I watch you. I hate that you can't see me. I hate that they treat you like some kind of god. You aren't, you bleed. You *aren't* a god, that's why I love you. I hate that they follow you. I can see you don't like it either. I want to hurt them, to make them see that you aren't what they want. They put you on a pillar and I can tell from your face that it's cold and lonely there.  
  
And yet you cling to them, like lifelines. As if the fool and the muggle can save you. But can't you see that they don't? They pull you down, hold you back. And you get so angry when I point it out. You called me so many hurtful names. You said I'm a classest, That I judged them because I was on some higher level, bullshit. You said I was a purebred snob. Then you tried to pin me as a dark wizard. Is it just that you're afraid to see what's right before you? I don't give a damn about their backgrounds. Those things are nothing, what matters are their actions. That Weasley boy has made you into an action figure, his own pet hero. He wants to have you in his back pocket with his slingshot. You aren't a person to him; you're an ideal. And she, *she* that muddling bitch, views you as a cause. Just like her precious S.P.E.W. You're "Poor, Unfortunate Harry Potter, Orphan cum Tragic Hero". She wants to be the woman who put you back together. But she doesn't even know where to start. Her lame attempts to set you up on dates, her "thoughtfulness" when she tutors you. All she does is berate you for your supposed ignorance. And she sends you off like a lamb to the slaughter to escort some bubble headed girl on some tedious outing.  
  
I hate it when I watch you walk into the hall. Why can't they see your slight limp? Why don't they see that your smile doesn't touch your eyes? They all think you're Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived. But you're not. What you're doing? That's not living. It's subsisting. You're the Boy Who Survived. You're a survivor, you aren't a hero. You're broken. Don't they see that? Even the teachers, even Dumbledore, think you're something special. And you aren't! They all think I'm jealous of you. They think I want to be you. Be you? How could I want that? I don't even want you to be you. I would chose to live as mundane muggles if you could be just Harry. You're not a celebrity, you are just a boy, a child. You didn't want this and it isn't fair. Strangers feel they can judge you because you're a star.  
  
God, then there is Snape, I love the man like a second father but sometimes I can't stand him. He's supposed to be all observant. Wasn't he a spy back when all that mattered? Back when the name Voldemort wasn't spoken without fear, now it's nothing more than a name in a textbook. So why is it that when he looks at you he sees what they all see, The Harry Potter. People cast you in whatever role they see fit. They want you to be a brave little soul. He sees you as James' son: an arrogant kid who's got ideas of grandeur. I would have thought that if anybody could see you it would have been good ol' Uncle Rus, that's what I called Severus when I was young. He should be able to see that you pale anytime people bring it up. That every time people ask you about "The Final Stand" between you and Voldemort in our sixth year you look like you might be sick. And that girl! The little girl who tried to touch your scar when we were in Hogsmeade for the day, did you know I saw that? Do you know that I watched you smile and walk away? Or that I followed you when you went to vomit behind the Three Broom Sticks? I'm a stalker, your stalker. Am I just like the rest of them? Do you want me to stop? I'm drowning in you, Harry. And I'm so busy looking for a way to help you that I don't notice my predicament for long enough to find a way out. I know I'm drowning, it just doesn't matter. But if by drowning I help you then so be it. I think you're aware that I know about you. I know where you live. But does that make you happy? Does it help to know that someone gives a damn or do I just piss you off?  
  
Looking up from my reverie I see you staring at me. There's hate in your gaze and very little else. You nod. I nod. You look down and I feel like gouging my own eyes out. I can't eat as my heart lives in my throat as a constant, pulsing reminder of you. I see you laugh at something Granger says, forced merriment does very little for your complexion. I want to grab you and take you away from them. They don't deserve you. All of them have these expectations of who you should be. All I want is to see what you *could* be. Am I selfish? I want to make love to you and see you in the morning light. I remember when we met and you were just you, with no idea what you were about to face you laughed. I want to see you with a real smile again, after all of this, I wonder if your eyes would look younger, more human. I want a civil conversation with you. I want to see you cry and I want you to know that I'll be there to hold you. I want to see you stand up straight and tall without looking over your shoulder waiting for whatever it is that you always seem to be waiting for.  
  
Leaning over the table you're careful to flick your wrists in just the right way to insure that you stay covered at all times. Nothing but your fingers are visible. How could your supposed friends have not noticed that you've not worn short sleeves since the summer after our first year? Never once have you rolled up your robe sleeves in Potions, not even when you caught your sleeve on fire. Silly boy. If they were truly your friends they would not judge you. You wouldn't worry about what they thought. But you know, don't you? You know that they would abandon you if they realized there was more to you than a golden savior. So you hide it. You hide behind the very veneer you loathe. Sometimes I lie awake in bed and wonder how many of the scars that you so carefully hide were placed there by your own hand. Some of them are, undoubtedly. It's a nice way of coping, I know. When I had problems I went to my dad or Uncle Rus, you went to a blade. I would love to call you weak. Would love to say you a coward. But you're the strongest person I know because you had no where else to turn and you made do. You fall like everyone else. That's not your fault, people are made to fall. But you somehow make the fall look elegant with all of it's flaws. I hate you for that. I wish I didn't notice these things. I wish I was caught in the same spell as everyone else. It would be easy.  
  
But at the same time I wish so badly that I could be there, instead of a knife. If you could talk to someone would you still be marking yourself? I could leave a mark on you as indelible as any scar. Every night in my dreams I kill your family, please forgive me. When I see the way you act. . . what they must have done to you to break you down to a scared boy. . .what do the muggles say when they see you have a scar that they did not place there themselves? Do you lie? Blame bullies? I wish I could lay you down and run my tongue all over you. That I could make you realize that you aren't dirty or sick. You're not the god they want you to be and you aren't the demon you choose to view yourself as. You're human, beautiful.  
  
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Please tell me if this sucked or if I should continue. 


	2. 2

Title: The Boy Who Survived  
  
Writer: Azure K Mello (pamatemybaby117@yahoo.com)  
  
Part:2/?  
  
Pairing: Draco/Harry (kinda)  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but a tin of sardines. Once we were playing the game mentioned below. It was Christmas Day and we were bored. So my six cousins, my four siblings, and I played. We all ended up stuffed together in a tiny loo. I was 19, so my brother Toph was 22, it was hilarious.  
  
Warning: I've called this angst for the mental state of our hero. It's too bleak to be anything else. Slash, self mutilation, abuse, rape, self loathing.  
  
Angela, thank you for making this not suck.. You seem to be able to shred something and then like a phoenix a much, much better story raises from the ashes.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I hate it when you watch me. Why are you *always* watching me? Can't you understand that I hate you? Don't be an idiot, Malfoy, give it up. You don't know. . . I hate that you watch me and that you can actually *see* me. That's not the way it's supposed to be. There are rules. There are rules and you're breaking them. You're not supposed to see me. No one should! They play by the rules.  
  
When I was little we would play sardines. Back when Dudley was *just* my cousin, and his father was my only tormentor, we were almost friends. The whole street of kids would get together and play sardines. It's a muggle game, you'd think it was stupid I'm sure. One person hides and then everyone splits up to look for them. When a person finds the hider they hide with them. Eventually the last person to find them is the loser and has to hide in the next round. There would be ten or twelve of us and we would all end up hiding behind a bush, squished together like sardines in a tin trying not to laugh and let the seeker know where we were. When I was the hider I always won. No one could find my hiding places. I got good at hiding very young. I had too.  
  
But now I'm not winning anymore. You find me. You always do. You're not meant to find me. It's driving me mad. I can't get away, Malfoy, let me go. Stop looking for me. What you're doing is called stalking. I could tell Dumbledore. But what would I say, "Malfoy is stalking me because he knows I'm miserable," yeah, bright idea, Harry. I want you to stop watching me. You have this hungry look and I don't want that, everyone looks at me with hunger and yours is different. It's like you want to consume me. Like you want to take me inside your soul and keep me safe. Stop it. You look at me like I'm naked, which I guess I am. But it's not your right to see me like that. I don't want you to see me like that. Once I get on the Hogwarts Express no one is supposed to see the holes. There are different rules here, why won't you understand that? You think you're above it? You think you get to follow some different code because you're a Malfoy? You don't. Maybe if we were outside of school you could look at me like that, if you saw me at "home" you could do that. But Hogwarts is safe. And I can see the pity in your looks and it makes me feel weak.. I'm not weak. I'm strong when I'm here, away from them. I'm Harry Potter, so stop looking at the broken kid, I'm not him.  
  
Do you think I'm a fool? You try to tell me that Ron and Hermione don't really care for me. But guess what, I know that. But I would rather be surrounded by sycophants than by your *compassion*. If I *have * to live, if I'm forced to keep going I would rather be Harry Potter: the Boy Who Lived as opposed to having people really know me. Your friends hate me, because I'm a hero who destroyed their parents' Lord. And everyone else loves me for the same reason. There is nothing more to me. I'm made of plastic, this smile is the only expression I can wear. They can't judge me when all they see is that smile. Your friends can hate The Boy Who Lived and the others can worship him. They can do whatever they want so long as they don't touch *me* the real me. Please don't touch me. I'll be who ever you want me to be, but stay four feet back and stop looking at me like that.  
  
I was born to kill Voldemort, I've done that. And the Daily Prophet called it a sensational battle. I lost my parents, Cedric, Sirius, and Cho in the process but I didn't give up. I killed him. Now as he was the *only* reason I was famous can't I just disappear? What else do I have to do before I can sink into anonymity? Do I have to cut this fucking pox off my face? Or add a new one over it? I feel like Cain when God sent him to the Land of Nod, east of Eden. He marked him so that everyone knew he had killed his brother. And he, Voldemort, marked me and everyone knows just by looking at me. I don't want to be him anymore, that celebrated champion, and I don't want to be your pet. I don't want to be broken. I don't want to be anyone.  
  
I hate you. And I want to believe that you're just like the rest of them. I want to believe that you have some hidden agenda, that you want something from me. Because the people who asked nothing of me are dead. And Hagrid doesn't count, I can barely stand to be with him now, all I see is pity when he looks at me. Ron wants to be the friend of a rock star, Hermione wants to be the hero of The Man, Ginny wants my auto-graph and now with her innocence gone she wants a place in my bed, Dumbledore wants a poster child for the light, my family wants me dead or spread beneath them moaning like the whore they believe me to be instead of screaming like a little girl the way that I do. So what is it that you want from me?  
  
I look up to study you; you seem to be lost in thought too. And when you finally look up at me I see hope; and love; and trust in your eyes. I can feel my own gaze harden, I nod, you nod and I look anywhere that your eyes aren't. Where's the sympathy? I need you to pity me! I need a reason to hate you. I feel my own internal argument falling to pieces. That's against the fucking rules! Was there any pity there to begin with? Or did I just imagine it all? You. Are. Not. Allowed. To. Love. Me. Hermione said something so I laugh, I don't even know if that's the correct response. Please, don't love me. If you love me, if you see everything I am and still can want me, I might actually grow fond of you. And if I love you you'll die. Everyone I love dies. I don't want you to die, Draco. You're the only one who matters to me now. Is it childish for me to point out that Hermione and Ron have barely received scratches throughout this ordeal. I think you would laugh if you heard my thoughts.  
  
It would be so easy to crawl into your arms. You would take care of me and love you and never ask for anything. But what happens when you realize how fucked up I really am? What happens when you finally grasp the fact that I'm nothing, you know I'm not The Harry Potter, but what about when you realize I'm not *human*? I can't love the way you do, I just can't. I can't trust and without trust what would we be? I only cause pain. No matter how you could make me feel I would, could, never make you happy. And what happens when you see me naked? I mean physically, not the emotional ways you've seen me. You will see the scars all over me, you see that some of them were put there by me, and what will you think of me? I know that you're aware of my past but how would you react to the proof of it? Could you look at me without seeing the filthy. . . *thing* I am? Could still you love me once you saw the evidence that your so-called lover is nothing more than a whore and a punching bag? Could you touch me without cringing?  
  
I know you think I hate you. I called you so many names, kicked you about so much. It's better this way. It keeps the one last thing about me hidden. I don't hate you, Draco. I don't hate the death eaters, or my family. I don't hate Voldemort. I only hate myself. All the pain I've been through was my fault. I killed everyone I loved. If I had done it right the first time, if I had killed him when I was in my crib then no one but me would have died. If I had actually done it right I could have stopped all this pain. I'm a loser, a waste, I *am* pathetic, don't you see that? I deserve everything that's happened to me. I have no right to complain, though I still do; I can't expect to be happy but I still want to. I wish you would stop loving me because it only causes more pain, you hurt and I can feel it.  
  
I should be dead. Dumbledore made me see a shrink after Sirius was killed. The guy told me that my mother gave her life for me and that I therefore owed it to her to live and be happy. That's a huge sacrifice. But what about me? What about what she owes me? She owed me a happy life with a family and normalcy but she took that away from me, she died when she should have let me do my job. I don't owe her anything. She could be alive, they could have had another baby, I was only a year old. They could have grieved and moved on. They could have had a normal life and I could have been at peace. Please, don't ask me to love you. Nothing could be more cruel. 


	3. 3

Title: The Boy Who Survived  
  
Writer: Azure K Mello (pamatemybaby117yahoo.com)  
  
Part:3/?  
  
Pairing: Draco/Harry (kinda)  
  
Note 1st: Sorry if Draco's thoughts are slightly melodramatic. I considered altering them but then I reminded myself that most of what comes out of his mouth is florid, vitriolic babble and so it's liable to be his silent commentary as well.  
  
Note 2nd: Shrove Tuesday or Pancake Tuesday is the English name for Fat Tuesday, the Tuesday before ash Wednesday. Traditionally mum's make pancakes for dinner because Lent starts the next morning and eggs and fats should be given up. These pancakes are like thick crêpes and are generally served with lemon juice and sugar. Extremely yummy but also sickly.  
  
Note 3rd: Ice cream oysters are soft serve ice cream in a cake cone shaped like an oyster. The cone is made with two halves that are stuck together with marshmallow, chocolate, and coconut. They're an English, muggle treat.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing but the plot is mine. Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet has the line: "And but one word with one of us? couple it with something; make it a word and a blow."  
  
Warning: I've called this angst for the mental state of our hero. It's too bleak to be anything else. Slash, self mutilation, abuse, rape, self loathing.  
  
Thanks for all the feedback!!  
  
Thank you to Topher and Angela for beta-ing for me. It means a lot.

* * *

I watch as you leave the Great Hall. The pissants watch you but again no one really sees what's happening to you. All too caught up in their own inane chats. So I follow you, after all someone as "great" as you needs an escort. I can't see you anywhere. And I actually feel a little hurt that you have given me the slip. I may only be your stalker but that doesn't give you the right to ditch me. Suddenly I feel myself being thrown against a wall I smirk. Brute force? No magic? That's not very polished of you, Potter. I guess the smirk makes you angrier as you press against me harder.  
  
"Don't follow me. Find someone else to stalk, prat." You spit the words out at me and I feel something inside of me crumble. Prat? Is that all I am to you? I have images of those last days last year milling in my head. When we worked together before the battle. Dumbledore had forced us and you were nearly civil. I think of you smiling at me and laughing.  
  
Where just a moment ago my courage lived has now nothing but hurt and anger, "I wanted a word with you."  
  
"A word? Make it a word and blow." You laugh at your own little joke. I can see the innuendo of the words I just don't get why it's funny. And when you realize that I have no idea why it's droll you stop and just stare at me, "Did you never learn anything that wasn't magic?"  
  
I shake my head. Before Hogwarts I went to Rejoyce, the Wizarding primary school in Cornwall. You look at me with something akin to amazement. I try to validate it, "I have a classical Wizarding education!" I think of something else, "Oh! We had elocution classes." It's only after the words leave my mouth that I realize I'm digging myself into a deeper hole.  
  
You just raise an eyebrow. Congratulation, Mr. Potter, you succeed where my mother failed. Unlike her you can always make me feel two inches tall. You smile and it almost looks gentle, it almost looks friendly until it hardens into a sneer, "That's really quite pathetic, you continue to amaze me with your ignorance. Why did you follow me?"  
  
"To say good morning." I'll admit that I am a bad liar. My father always wished I was, tried to coach me. He was scared after my mother nearly beat me to death when I played with muggles once. I wasn't smart enough to not tell her. And remember how bad I was at faking the injury with the Hippogriff? My father used to just shake his head and wish that I had gotten the Malfoy tongue instead of an honest one. I'm no good at it. But what do you want from me? I can't be honest now. I can't just scream out my adoration for you in the middle of the bloody lobby right here, so close to everyone.  
  
"Is that what you actually believe or is it just what you want me to think?" Do you remember when we used to fight and throw stupid insults back and forth and we just pissed each other off? When did that stop? When did that transform into this style of fight? Where words actually have power and hurt? "Or is this what you want?"  
  
You rub up against me in a deliberate, wonton manner that is so clearly practiced that it's painful to watch. Why are you doing this, to me and to yourself, why? that's not why I watch you, I'm not like that. There is nothing I want from you; you aren't a whore, that's not why I come to you. I hate my body for reacting. Traitor. I almost want to hex you to kingdom come for seeing me being weak. Breathing hard I realize I need to get away before I do something stupid and when I speak the name falls instantly from my lips and I know I'm a fool, "Harry," I try to back away but I'm flush with the wall, "stop it."  
  
"Harry?" you ask quirking an eyebrow at my use of your real name. You seem to search my face looking for some answer there, looking for a reaction. Shaking your head slowly you push against me and kiss me 'til I see stars in my vision as the blood rushed down from my head. Bastard. You snake your way into my mouth and I can't hold the moan back. And then you bite my tongue so hard it bleeds. It's no love nip, it's a punishment. One I'm enjoying far too much. I gasp as you suck on the wound. Pushing you away I look anywhere but at you. I'm ashamed at my reactions. You're silently screaming out of sheer exasperation, confusion, hate, seeking out help and restitution. And I got off on it. But you turn my face to yours.  
  
You gaze at me studying me to unearth whatever you are looking for and your frown says that you haven't found it yet. You open your mouth as if to apologize and then instead say, "Draco," you use my name to taunt me and it's dually noted, "I killed your mother."  
  
I already knew that she had died in the war. Even before your admission I had a vague suspicion that it was at your hands. I don't know what you want, I rarely do, "Thank you?" I hazard. I hated the woman but I would never have killed her. I mean I had never wanted anything to do with her but she was my mother. She led my father a dog's life, he was miserable and kicked around and did anything at her bidding to protect me and keep her happy. She beat the shite out of her own son. I'm too damn sensible to mourn filth.  
  
It clearly isn't the answer you want. You look crestfallen and I can see you sag a little. I push you away, hard. The move catches you off guard and you fall back a few feet. My hand is covered in blood that has seeped through your robes. Smiling with some odd triumph you watch me and wait for me to react. Did you want me to find you lacking, somehow inadequate? Was that the point of this whole episode? To repulse me? I never look away from your face as I lick my fingers clean. "Fuck off," you say and skulk away. I suppose everyone's eloquent wrath has to run dry at some point. I hear the echo as you trip on the stone stairway. I hear to swear and I hear you curse again after kicking the offending step. And I know that you aren't as unaffected as you appear to be.  
  
Opening the Hall's doors makes me feel sick. They're all staring at me, or least it feels like they are. The whole Slytherin table smirk and give me thumbs up. Everyone else have daggers in their eyes. And here I thought they hadn't really paid you any notice when you left, maybe it was that we both left. Or more accurately, that I followed you. They all demand with their looks to know what I have done to their golden boy. But the question is what have you done to me? Outside, in the lobby, your actions have left me off kilter and I feel dizzy. I consider drinking some juice for the sugar but then remember the deep gash in my mouth. I curl my tongue up to test the damage. Still bleeding, I taste of copper and you. So distinct yet odd, your flavor, in a good way mind. You remind me of pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. Acidic and sweet and sickly. The taste shouldn't be pleasant, and the bitterness scares me but your taste is as addictive as the rest of you. And I realize that it's that taste that's making me dizzy. And I have the sudden revelation that I will never be able to get enough of you. No matter how much I get I will always crave more. I'm a selfish git, and I'm fucked, 'cause you don't want me.  
  
The Hall goes back to it's normal self as students talk loudly while teachers pretend not to eavesdrop. I wish you were here. The scene I am about to cause would please you I'm sure. You like scenes, so long as you aren't at the heart of them. Like me, you enjoy watching people make arses out of themselves. You like it because it gives people something else to talk about besides you. I like scenes because I'm a malevolent bastard who finds them funny. What? You think because I'm in love with you that I have suddenly become a good man? Please. I will always be me, apathetic. Some of my actions in the past may have been affected but some were honest. I was raised by a fanatical Death Eater and two of the most oddly loyal men I know, you can't expect me to be sweetness and light. You wouldn't want me that way anyway. . . not that you want me now.  
  
Somehow I've managed to get off track. Damn you, I was organized and collected before we met, this is your fault. So yes, Draco Malfoy, the Malfoy heir, is about to make a gaffe. And I am aware that it is stupid even before I find myself doing it. Uncle Rus is reading the paper and rolling his eyes at something he read therein. So I walk right up to the teachers' table, right up onto the platform. Not even you have ever been rash enough to walk past McGonagall while she's eating. But I not thinking about anything except getting to Severus.  
  
He looks surprised when he looks up from his paper and sees me standing here. It is amazing what sheer contempt for the student body can do for a man. So engaged in disdaining the populace he had somehow managed to miss the scene. Even some of the teachers are shooting me dirty looks. I can feel mystical power radiating from them. What do they think happened? That I had murdered you, dismantled your body, buried you, and come back in fifteen minutes? Dumbledore winks at me, that old twat can go fuck himself. I really don't care for his support. Severus is not a morning person and was never his normal, biting self until after his fourth cup of coffee. "Dragon, what's wrong?" he asks clearly unaware that the whole school has just heard him use a pet name and show that he actually has a functioning heart.  
  
"Can we talk?" He nods but sits still. "Alone?" He nods again and stands.  
  
Something passes silently between him and the bumbling fool because Dumbledore smiles wordlessly and hands Rus the whole pot of coffee, "Thank you, Headmaster, Come along Draco." He sounds slightly more like himself. Silently we walk down to the dungeons and he leads me into his office. "What was so important that it couldn't wait until after coffee?" he asks with underlying malice.  
  
The tone would have scared any sane student but I simply rolled my eyes. Early in life I had equated that voice and that sneer with my begging for two ice creams at the seaside. He would come down to Rejoyce for the day and take me out to one of the muggle beaches. Very few Wizards live in Cornwall, they just send their children there to be educated, there were no wizard beaches. Dad could never come with him. Mum thought it was weak and that I would become a wuss if they visited often. We would fly our kite which never fell from the ski because of a "fair fly" charm. And, after five minutes of me whining, he would give in with a long suffering sigh and buy me a second ice cream. He would walk to the truck and hand over three pounds (muggle money I'm sure you understand) for a huge ice cream oyster that he would help me eat. Even with his assistance we only ever got through half of it. I don't know why he didn't just buy the oyster to start with, then there would have been no cause for a second treat. Maybe he liked the ritual as much as I did.  
  
"Hypothetically."  
  
He smirks, "Alright."  
  
"There is someone you like and they really don't like you but they're in a lot of trouble and no one else knows." Let's play the pronoun game, how long can I go without saying "he" and therefore avoid coming-out in the Hogwarts' dungeon? "It's not trouble that will get them killed, nor did the person tell you it themselves. So you can't tell someone else. What should you do?"  
  
Sighing that famous sigh Rus roles his eyes and asks, "Is Blaise alright?"  
  
Typical. He knows without being told that I don't like girls but he then goes for the most obvious person possible, "Ewww, not Blaise!"  
  
Smiling a rare, real smile he asks, "Well who?" he takes a sip of his coffee directly out of the pot, seemingly too tired to find a cup. I don't reply. Realization dawns on him and I'm sprayed with hot liquid as he splutters. If I filmed times like this I would make a mint. Every student in the school would kill to see him like this, confused and human. But I would never tape it, he's my "Uncle Rus" and I'm keeping that for myself. I still think of him the same way I did when I was six years old on the beach, he's safety and, as stated before, I'm selfish. "Not that arrogant little. . . I saw the looks but no! Anyone but Potter."  
  
I hate it when he judges me. And I can't stand for him to judge you. "He isn't his father! He's done nothing to you." I plead, still seeking his approval like a child. And he looks at me with worried eyes for a minute. "He's kind and good." I think of the incident earlier this morning but block it out.  
  
He laughs slowly with disbelief, "My god. Dragon! Have you gone mad?"  
  
"No." I turn to leave, but he calls me back. Slowly he stands, walks around his desk and gave me a quick hug which is awkward for both of us as by age 18 I have been taught that men don't touch, especially English men.  
  
"What Potter's done now?"  
  
"I can't tell you. How can I help him if he's busy hating me? How can I do anything? He loathes me."  
  
"It depends. . . can you kill anyone to fix it?" he asks in that dry voice.  
  
I just shake my head. I'm sorry Harry, but I have to tell him. He can't help if he doesn't know something. I'm not selling you out, I won't say anything real or specific. I need his help. I'm scared for you. Maybe one day you'll forgive me for my little indiscretion. I'm trying to help you. "It's not danger. It's just. . . he's miserable. And I don't know how to help him." That's all I'm saying. See? Nothing with details. If he used his eyes he could have seen it for himself.  
  
"Miserable? The Great-"  
  
"Shut up," I say before he finishes. I don't think I've ever spoken back to him until now. But I refuse hear it one more time. He's supposed to be a grown up, not a petty, sullen kid. "He's not like that."  
  
He glares, and it actually says a lot more then if he opened his mouth. He has many different glares. I made a list once, I think there are 32 in all. This one is the one he uses when he knows he doesn't have a foot to stand on but stubbornly refuses to accept the obvious.  
  
It was far too late for it to be only be 8:45. I feel as if I've run a marathon. "Watch him later, in class. And actually watch him. Don't just seek out things to criticize him for and don't look for the resemblance that isn't there." Without waiting for his reply I turn and leave. 


	4. 4

Title: The Boy Who Survived  
  
Writer: Azure K Mello (pamatemybaby117@yahoo.com)  
  
Part:4/?  
  
Pairing: Draco/Harry (kinda)  
  
Rest is here:   
  
Note 1st: Snape is narrating as I wanted a voice that wasn't being driven by hormones.  
  
Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things. Nothing belongs to me. All you would get of any worth is my computer, and you would have to pry that from my cold dead fingers.  
  
Warning: I've called this angst for the mental state of our hero. It's too bleak to be anything else. Slash, self mutilation, abuse, rape, self loathing.  
  
Thanks for all the feedback!!  
  
Angela and Cassie are such great betas and make this *so* much better.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I hate it when Dragon's right. He always gets so smug. So like his father. For the first half of class I didn't even look at Potter. Draco is nothing if not smart and I fear seeing something through his eyes. Where will I be if I can't loathe Potter? It is only amusing to torment Longbottom for short periods of time, then it just becomes pathetic. Plus he doesn't take my class anymore, I may have given the boy a stroke. I most likely saved his life, now he won't try to make potions and eventually blow himself up. Potter is so much more amusing, he stubbornly refuses to be defeated, is always defiant, always ready to be kicked again.  
  
When I finally give in and start to study him I'm rewarded by seeing him playing with his hair. James used to do that. No one's hair was that messy naturally. It was all affected for that perfect look of Potter poise. But as I watch him, I'm surprised when I suddenly realize he's absently trying to flatten the mop. It's just a nervous habit: he's trying to cover his scar. He stares at Draco with something akin to loathing and hope in his eyes. Draco looks up every once in a while, glances at Potter and then lowers his eyes again, dejected and sad. Sometimes, often, I wish I could kill people and get away with it. I never took advantage of that back when I was a death eater. I never killed anyone, I tortured and maimed quite a few individuals but I never dealt the final blow. Even if the boy *is* in as much pain as Draco says he is it still doesn't allow for him to hurt Dragon.  
  
I take 20 points from Gryffindor as Harry's pot is bubbling too loudly. Draco glares at me when no one's looking and just shakes his head slightly. Did Dragon think I would go easy on the boy because he had decided to take Potter as a pet? By now he should know better than that. "Potter."  
  
Jumping he looked up from his cauldron. He always manages to get caught up in his work; he's been doing better since his idiot friends dropped the class. A lot better in fact. . . much to my chagrin. Miss. Granger had decided she wanted a career in international relations with the Ministry and she had no time with all her other classes. And the Weasley boy didn't have high enough NEWTS to continue his studies. There are only twelve pupils in my seventh year class. They work alone, fine tuning their gifts. And so he stands alone at a table in the corner, "Sir?"  
  
"What is rinthwood?" I snap the question off at him.  
  
"It's a goo from the stomach of Flobberworms. It is the only really useful thing that comes from the animal. After collecting the substance it's baked and crushed into a powder. It's a powerful aphrodisiac; it's also the main component in many concealment and deception potions." Potter gives me a quick, small, angry sneer. But his eyes don't have any anger, they're just completely empty. "However because of the difficulty of procuring it, rinthwood is worth more than it's weight in gold."  
  
He was an idiot when he first came to this school, knowing nothing of his heritage. If James had been there he would have picked on the boy no end. Someone from a pure lineage who knew nothing of this world? James would have crucified the boy. But I will admit that he's worked hard to surpass his peers who had ridden broomsticks before they could walk, had teethed on their mother's wand. In a way it's really quite amazing, I doubt Dumbledore could give such a concise answer. Bastard. "You know it from your many conquests of young women, I'm sure."  
  
"Well I am a slut," is his simple answer. The mirth in his tone doesn't mesh well with the odd look in his eyes; doubt and anger mix into an indescribably frightening gaze.  
  
I nearly laugh at his words, that would have been bad. I take away another ten points for his flippant tone. And I look for any reason to criticize him further, "Roll up your sleeves, Potter, I'm sick of you nearly setting light to my lab." Looking down he mutters something and then rolls his sleeves up. "What was that you said?" I ask with cold scorn.  
  
"My watch," he says with a flourish of his wrist, "always gets caught in my sleeve. It's so annoying."  
  
I see the faint silver light over his arms. No one else is close enough for it to be visible. "Nice charm work," I say, softly so that only the two of us can hear. And then I add in my normal frosty tone, "Stay after class, Potter." I turn, my robe swooping out. Yes, I am well aware of my evil aura, I cultivated it myself.  
  
"I'm sorry, I have a class," says an even voice from behind me.  
  
Squaring my shoulders I don't turn around, "I'll write you a note."  
  
The rest of the period goes quickly. Blaise sets light to his potion too soon but it was a mistake easily made, therefore I take no points from my own house. Some of the students grumble that I favour my house, which I do, but even the most seasoned wizards could have done it. The brew has to turn magenta before it could be lit. Setting fire to the liquid infused it with power however if done too soon the potion is not ready to hold the innate magic from the flames. He lit it when it was still pink, a fourth of a shade off what it should have been when it was ignited. It's the difference of a few seconds.  
  
I make them all try their own potions. It took me a very long time to make them realize that this was not a punishment. At the start of the year some students dropped my class because I told them that they would have to test their products. There is no point in making the potions if you're unwilling to test them. How would you know if it would work when actually be needed? The potions we were working on weren't for acne treatment; lives could be at stake when using them. Shoddy work could kill. These children needed to have as much pride and faith in these brews as they did in their own existence. They had to learn respect.  
  
Today we had been making an invisibility potion. It actually didn't make a person invisible, per se, it just made it so that people didn't notice you. After swallowing the foul tasting syrup you blended into the background like muggle camouflage. I didn't make Blaise test his, I knew damn well the ruined concoction could kill him. At this level of potion making, it is an awful thing to have to discard a brew, therefore I didn't punish the boy any further. I simply stand over him as he pours the muck down the drain. Before he leaves I must remember to give him some healing chocolate.  
  
Potions this complicated take a great amount of concentration and energy, his hands are shaking. The power used to make brew has drained him. Low-level potions are easy to make, so easy in fact, that young wizards don't notice their power ebbing into their cauldrons. Potion making isn't about mixing unpronounceable things over heat, it's about the work preceding the final product. A lot goes into a superior potion: intent, concentration levels, and immense insight into the ingredients. To lay a good floor a carpenter needs to know the properties of the wood he is working with, a lot of energy, and he needs a great deal of skill. The same is true with potion making. The potion of a feeble wizard will be weak. A good potion can drain even the best wizards of their magical prowess. Botched potions have worse effects, the power tries to leave the brew and go back to its original place within the wizard. However, the body won't accept the energy and the force of being hit with it has roughly the same outcome as a bad case of sunstroke. Blaise's mistake had cost him dearly in time, materials, and power. It will be at least two days before he can even attempt to try again. For this reason my seventh years only meet twice a week.  
  
I excuse Blaise and concentrate on the others still in class. The rest of the class start to try their potions. All but one work perfectly. Potter's fails.  
  
He swallows the potion and seemingly disappears. I certainly can't see him but Draco says coldly, "Huh, it didn't work." He sneers openly, "Better luck next time."  
  
"What are you talking about?" I ask. Is my boy going mad?  
  
"He's right there. Can't you see him?" Draco looked confused and then turned from me. "If you keep pulling faces they might stick . . . It's not my fault!" I realize suddenly that he can both see and hear Potter while the rest of us are blind.  
  
Love. Oh fuck. Potter loves Draco. Potter loves Draco so much in fact that he can't hide behind his magic. Draco managed to stay invisible to the other boy as he had control of his magic completely: able to separate his life and his power. Something in Harry's subconscious won't allow him to screen himself from Dragon. Fear maybe? Perhaps he fears blocking out Draco, perhaps Draco is the one thing Harry has left . . . and it's just occurred to me that I'm calling him Harry. Fuck, this is complicated.  
  
Quickly administering the antidote, I supervise the class as they bottle their potions, this precious spell will go into their rapidly growing catalogue of equally potent brews. I almost feel like I'm equipping a small army. And in a way I am.  
  
Draco gives me a pleading look before following the rest of the students exiting the lab, leaving me alone with the dark boy. "Roll up your sleeves again," I order with cool detachedness. He does as he is told with a sigh. There is no one here to witness an argument and he knows that if we're alone he'll never win "And drop that ridiculous cloaking spell; it must have been tiring to keep it up all the way through class."  
  
Slowly he looks down at his arms and then up to meet my eyes, "I'm sorry, Sir, but I won't do that."  
  
The audacity contained in the simple statement actually raises him in my esteem. However no one ever disobeys me. "All right, come along then." I turn to the door. "I'll take you to the headmaster." I hear a small, shocked intake of breath. I suppose it was a low blow, but let's not forget that I loathe the boy. I knew that Harry hated the man. He had stopped seeing Dumbledore as a grandfather after Black died. Dumbledore must have worded his condolences very badly if the boy still can't stand to be with him.  
  
He narrows his eyes, I can feel them on my back. And as I turn slowly I put on a mock face of shock. When I see his bare arms I stop being an arse. "May I go now?" his voice is small, no longer the angry righteous tone.  
  
Unwittingly I have taken away the one thing he had left, the dignity of his privacy. I am a bastard; I have never claimed to be anything else. "No," Why is it that I can never leave well enough alone? Why must I pour salt into the wound? It's an odd compulsion. I reach to turn over his arm but he flinched back. My god, how can one body be so broken?  
  
"I don't mean to be rude and please don't take more points from my house when I say this. But if you touch me I will do everything within my power to ruin your life." He looks down, never meets my eye, "I'll go to the Daily Prophet and tell them that my potions professor has been systematically abusing me since I was 11."  
  
What scares me is not what he said but how readily it was available to be said. Clearly he has considered ideas like this before. I put my hands up in a placating manner and step back. "What happened there?" I ask nodding to a deep scar.  
  
He gives me a wary look, the boy is clearly still shaken by the thought of having Dumbledore come into this. And still carefully avoiding my eyes, he replies, "I broke my arm so badly that they needed to pin it, they had to open me up."  
  
Muggle medicine is barbaric, almost funny if it weren't for its inherent sickness. "How did you do that? Break your arm that badly?"  
  
"I had help," I study him as he studies the floor. I see the ghost of a smile grace his lips, "I have a very helpful family." He must have thought my silence heralded the end of this talk as he suddenly said, "Can I go?"  
  
"No," I say almost absent mindedly, "Why didn't you go to Dumbledore?"  
  
"Please, Professor, I can't-"  
  
"You can," I interrupt. "There is nothing that can't be done."  
  
"I'm too weak . . . that's what you want to hear isn't it? You love this don't you? You love seeing James Potter's prodigal son all faulted and fucked up. How great are you feeling right now? Do you want the gory details? Maybe you can wank off later to the image."  
  
"Harry," I say softly and he just laughs.  
  
"*Harry*?" he replies, "Did you just call me Harry? Fuck! I don't want your pity! I don't want anything from you. You all get everything. Everyone gets all of me. Can't I have one thing that's mine? Or do I have to be The Boy Who Lived forever?"  
  
All he wanted was his privacy, the very thing that I have just stripped off of him. "I'm sorry."  
  
"Fuck off, Professor." The title of respect sounds odd coming after his vitriol and his comments about my masturbatory activities.  
  
"Is that why you do it?" I ask as I nodded to a deep line that he obviously inflicted on himself. "To prove that you have secrets?"  
  
He finally looks up at me. His eyes are burning and dry, almost parched as if he is too far-gone to ever cry again. "I do it for order in an otherwise chaotic life." I can tell that's only one of at least a dozen reasons.  
  
"You could hurt yourself."  
  
"I know my limits." He says coldly, like a stranger talking about the weather with someone who he isn't sure if he's met before.  
  
"Do you now?" my tone is sarcastic. Christ, I'm not trained for this I'm a spy not a shrink. I have no idea what I'm doing. Having no idea, I do what it is that I know best: act like a complete prat. When in doubt, be yourself. What should I do? Am I supposed to let the boy go on? Am I supposed to coddle him or give him a good kick up the arse?  
  
"I've been doing it for nine years. If I didn't I'd be dead. Please, sir, may I go now?" his voice is mild and polite. He smiles conspiringly at me, "Only, I have Professor Trelawney and I'm sure she's told the class that she foresaw my death and that I shall never grace their presence again."  
  
Amazing, he can simply turn off one part of himself so easily. Nine years? He was a child. I look into his eyes again and see a resigned sadness, as though he knew it would come to this. I've taken away his shield and he doesn't seem shocked, just miserable. As I write his note I hear him muttering again and when I turn back his arms are totally smooth. "It's only tiring if I think about it," he says in reference to my earlier comment, "And I only use it when people are looking."  
  
There was something deeply profound in his last statement. But I can't figure out what it is. There was one thing I do know now, I know why Draco loves him. And that, more then anything, scares me. 


	5. 5

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello )

Part:5/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry (kinda)

Note 1st: Harry gets to reflect.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things. Nothing belongs to me. All you would get of any worth is my computer, and you would have to pry that from my cold dead fingers.

Warning: I've called this angst for the mental state of our hero. It's too bleak to be anything else. Slash, self mutilation, abuse, rape, self loathing.

Thanks for all the feedback!!

Angela, you make this so much better than it starts out. You make it. . . readable.

* * *

"I hate you," I say softly as I step out of the office because I can feel you watching me from where you're hiding and I know you can hear my words. You put him up to it, didn't you? You told Snape to watch me. I think you were trying to be kind. Trying to help me. But you've dug me into a deeper hole. Can't you see I want to be left alone? I don't want you watching me. Especially now, of all times, when I'm about to cry. Why did you do this? He made me show him. . . he saw my scars. Not all of them, thank Merlin, just the ones on my arms. He made me do it. Why can't you hate me? Why can't you make this easy and just hate me? Hate me, let me hate you.

Do you have any idea when I was last forced to do something? My uncle made me blow him in the bathroom of the train station five minutes before the Hogwarts Express came. He wanted me to leave with the taste of him in my mouth. He stayed by my side the whole time to make sure I couldn't buy gum or wash my mouth. I boarded the train with bruises on my scalp from where he held my hair and blood running down my throat because he had thrust into my esophagus too hard. I couldn't really speak, I told my friends that I had laryngitis. And I couldn't sneak off to brush my teeth as Ron just wanted to play exploding snaps the whole time.

And now Snape sees me. And it's your fault. He thinks I'm just a cutter with a mean family. That is so much better than the truth. At least he doesn't know that I'm their whore, that I'm just a shell. He doesn't know that story yet. I'm still safe. Why did you do this? What did you think it would accomplish? The only remotely positive thing was seeing his eyes. He pitied me, and that makes it so much easier to hate him. And I never really hated him before now. I just disliked him; he never seemed worth hating. But his pity puts him into the same category as all those mother's on the street who think I'm so "brave". I'm good at categorizing. But I saw that he hated himself for making me show him. He felt bad. And I don't want anyone, even him, feeling any pain in connection to me. I've already caused enough pain. I don't want to be the cause for anymore suffering, not even Snape's.

Please don't try to help me anymore, Draco. Don't waste your time caring about me. No one else does. I'm not worth it. I'm so tired and I'm about to start crying. Why can't you just go away and make this easy? I'm so scared. Because I can see where we're heading, where we've been heading for months and I don't want that. On a screen in my head I can already see what'll happen. I don't want to love you. But if you see me cry you're going to do something amazing, you're going to let me. And you're not gonna say anything. And you aren't going to try to comfort me, or touch me, or make me talk. You're just going to stand there and let me cry. And I don't know if I can cope with someone just letting me be. Because until now you've been trying to make things happen, like getting Snape to talk to me. But if stand there silently you'll be crossing yet another line.

I know that you still believe I hate you. But did you know that you're the only living person who makes me feel like I'm an actual human being and not just an ideal? No one other than Sirius ever made feel like this. No one else would let me cry. They'd want to comfort me, or understand why I was sobbing. But you already know, or at least I think you do. How much do you know? That I'm abused at home, that I'm a cutter, that I wish I was dead, that I'm their whore? I know you see me but what do you know? How far can I let you in? How far did you get in all by yourself? Do you understand why I have to hate you? Why I can't admit I love you?

I have a fantasy. It's completely warped. I know that most people's deepest, darkest fantasies are usually something like getting spanked or something. But I've had far too much of that in the past to want it. And I don't know what's more fucked up, theirs or mine. It's not the least bit sexual, not in any normal sense anyway. You and me are lying in bed, naked, and cuddled together. And we're talking about mundane stuff, a test, lunch, Christmas hols. You're touching my scars like you own them. You know how each one got there. And you don't care. Because you love me and nothing else matters. You don't see me as dirty, or weak, or as Harry Potter Boy Savior. You just see me. And then we fall to sleep and I'd be safe with you.

But could that happen? Could you see them without being disgusted? You look at me now and I can see you think I'm sexy. And that amazes me. How long would that last once you'd seen me naked? 10 seconds? 20? A whole minute? Or worse, so much worse, what if you didn't care? What if it didn't change anything? What if it played out like it does in my mind? If that happened I would love you so dearly, and the minute I loved you that much you would die. I've already explained that. I'm scared you won't love me and scared that you will. And with that thought my resolve is reinforced. I have to be a total arse to keep you and me safe.

"Stop hiding, I can hear you breathing." You step out looking shamefaced but not surprised and I say, "So you got Snape to do your dirty work. I guess I deserve that, after all I did make you bleed in the main hall this morning. Bit bastardish to get him to threaten me though." You look confused, you really have no idea what happened. You were just trying to help. Don't they always say that if someone is in trouble you go to a trusted adult? Thank you, for trying to help me, thank you, for trying to fix things. "He said I could go to Dumbledore or I could show him my scars. That's fantastic, getting your godfather to exploit me with his powerful position as my teacher." I see the anger flash in your eyes and I know that you'll rip him apart later despite how much you care for him. And I almost feel guilty for that. Because I know you care for him and it's a shame that you'll hate him because you love me. Don't burn your bridges for someone who'll never be able to love you. You were so happy after I killed Voldemort when your father moved to Hogwarts. He came to the castle looking for protection from the deatheaters, who he had betrayed. And he and Snape moved into a house on the grounds. And you told everyone that he was your godfather. You had kept it secret thinking that it might cause trouble, you were probably right.

I'm sorry to manipulate you like this. But you broke the rules first. You weren't supposed to see me. Now you have to pay the price. I know that you really love me, and Merlin damn me, I love you too. But I can't let you, -or anyone-, know that. "Harry, I never-"

My name slides off your tongue so easily. I want to kiss you. But instead I say, "Fuck off, I have to go to class."

"Trelawney had a real vision three weeks ago and hasn't held a class since because she's too shaken." You are cruel at times. Can't you see I'm trying to save us?

"Who says I have Trelawney?"

You roll your eyes and laugh bitterly and I want to make you stop. Want to make you laugh for real. But I don't move. "I'm stalking you, Harry, how shoddy of a shadow would I be if I didn't know your schedule?"

And I laugh too, but I'm so tired and really dizzy. I lied to Snape about the effects of the spell. It's one of the most exhausting spells I know. It grates on my nerves when I'm wearing it. I can feel all the scars as if they're burning while they are invisible to the eye. But it is true that I only do it while people are watching. And it's so rare that anyone is actually able to see my body that I generally only have to use it in the showers after Quidditch. I cover my scars with layers of cloth. I feel myself start to keel over. You grabbed me before I hit the floor. "The cloaking spell on my scars was kinda strong." It was meant to come out as an ironic joke. But it just sounds like I'm gonna puke on your shoes, which I might.

"I can't get you back to your dorm," I don't understand what you mean by this, "C'mon. You'll have to sleep this off in my dorm."

The involuntary tensing of my body is just that, involuntary. I don't fear you, I know you won't hurt me. I'm just used to getting hurt when I'm weak and someone telling me that we're going some private while I'm this defenseless scares me. If I ever got a fever I cried because I knew that if it got too high I was going to get fucked and not be able to fight it in any way. Because my uncle, and his friends, and Dudley all knew that I couldn't even try to fight them off while I was sick. "No," I say softly, and ingrained reaction to anyone telling me to come with them while I'm hurting.

You take your hands off me when you're sure I won't fall as you've propped me up against the wall and you speak softly, "You need some sleep. I can't take you up there. It's too far away and people will ask questions you won't want to answer. Especially the one they'll ask about your escort. Come on," you laugh and I can tell you're trying hard to lighten my mood, "this'll be a truce, you can sleep in my bed and I swear I won't do anything evil." You're trying so hard. You somehow manage to make it seem like I don't want to go with you because we hate each other. I can tell from your placating tone that you know the score that you know how scared I am. But you let me keep my dignity by pretending that this is something much simpler: loathing. Stop being so sweet. Don't you see you're making it hard for me to even pretend I hate you?

As you lead me down the corridor I can't pay attention. The spell is catching up with me after all the adrenalin is gone. I barely notice as you pull me into your common room, no one is there; everyone's in class. You should be in class. Don't get in trouble for babysitting me. I voice something to this extent and you just laugh. And you gently sit me on your bed and then go to your trunk to search for something. You throw out piles of clothes, including several sets of pajamas. Finally you find what you were looking for and hand them to me. A set of PJ's with long sleeves and legs. I glance over at the other sets, all short sleeved.

And this is what I am talking about. The tiny little things you do that show just how well you know me make me quake. You turn your back and feign looking for something. But you're really just letting me change without an audience. Clearing my throat you grab a book and turn back to me. With no intonation you say, "Try and get some sleep," you sit down in the armchair next to your bed and open up to where the book mark is. You're good at giving me just what I need, acting as though this is all perfectly normal.

Light is blocked out by the curtains and as I lie there in the dark I hear you turn a page. "What are you reading?" I finally ask.

"On the Road," you say simply.

"A muggle book?" I'm shocked I really am.

"I've never read one before. But you made me feel like an idiot this morning so right before Potions I got out the only muggle book the library had."

Silence stretches between us. I hate that my meanness effects you. It's meant to protect you. "Any good?" I ask finally.

"I'm only ten pages in," you reply and then I'm asleep.

* * *

Dreams are hideous. I wish I was awake, was in your bed listening to you breathe and turn the pages. But I'm not. I'm in my uncle's bedroom. And someone's ripping into me, making me bleed. I can't see his face; it could be any one of my uncle's three customers. It doesn't matter they're all the same. His hands are digging into my hips and I'm bleeding from so many places. He'll have to pay my uncle extra, it's one of the rules, if you hurt me you have to pay more. The rules are different here than at Hogwarts. Here I'm not Harry Potter the Boy Who Saves All Wizarding Kind I'm just Vernon's boy and he makes the rules while I follow them.

I can't scream or try to get away. I'm gagged and bound. Which is odd, but this is a dream. None of them would gag me in real life they like it when I beg. All I can do is silently cry and wish that I could bleed to death. And then I'm awake. Your bed isn't dark now because you've pulled the curtain back. The look on your face is beautiful. You look so angry and so righteous. I stop screaming, and I focus my eyes on you, I hadn't realized before that I had been crying out in my sleep. There are tears on my face and I hate it. Snape saw my scars. You see my weakness. It's too much for one day. It's not fair. What did I say? What did I mutter while dreaming? "Let me kill them," you say, "let me kill them all. Let me erase what they've done to you."

And you really mean it. I know now what I have to do. My dream has told me exactly what I have to do to save us. I need you to fuck me. To hurt me. To make me hate you. Because then I can put you into that same category as all of my uncles clients. Then you won't die. And we'll both be able to move on. I pull you down to me and whisper, "There are better ways to erase them." I kiss you so gently, so deceivingly.

"I love you," you say so softly. You've never said it before and I feel something inside of me break. All I want is to let you love me. But I can't. I need you to treat me like the whore I am. I need you to hate me by the end of the night. To view me as nothing more than a slut. I slip off my shirt as you crawl into bed with me and I wait for you to recoil, to realize what you're in bed with. Please, Draco, make me bleed destroy all those tender moments. Use me.


	6. 6

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello )

Part:6/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Note 1st: Draco watches his new lover

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things. Nothing belongs to me.

Warning: I've called this angst for the mental state of our hero. It's too bleak to be anything else. Slash, self mutilation, abuse, rape, self loathing.

Thanks for all the feedback!!

Thank you, Angela, for the quick and thorough beta!

Blame the quasi-graphic sex on Kitty. She made me write it.

* * *

You look at me through predatory eyes. You're seeking something again. I wish you'd tell me what you're looking for; what you want. Everything I am and own is yours. I'll give you whatever it is you're longing for. But I can't give it to you if I don't know what it is.

As I crawl towards you I can't help but drink in the sight of you. I've often wondered what you looked like naked. Often wondered just how marred you flesh is. But you're beautiful. Your skin looks like a topographical map. Yet, there's something so innocent in your eyes. I don't know what you're thinking. I rarely do. But I promise I won't hurt you. Anything that happens will be very consensual.

I lean in and kiss you. So happy, just being with you. But I can tell from the tenseness of your shoulders. Your anxiety is screaming through your body language, "Is this ok?"

"What?" you ask, slightly dazed. Eyes wide in surprise, as if no one has ever asked you that question before.

"Is this alright? Is this what you want? We could play chess." You laugh a breathy laugh which hurts to hear. "No really. We don't need to do this. I could hold you for a while. You could tell me about your dream."

You shudder at my words and then smile, looking vindicated. "You don't want me."

I nearly laugh at the preposterousness of the statement, "Of course I want you. You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen. But is this what you want?" Looking both sad and angry, you nod. I feel like a broken record and a total wally. Why can't I just drop the point? "Good," I laugh, "'Cause I really want you to have me."

Shaking your head you say, "No, I need you inside of me." You sound slightly panicked and desperate.

"Alright," I run my fingers over your face trying to soothe you. "Love you. Kiss me," I command gently and that makes you look a little happier. There are white crescent moons all over your waist and hips. Scars from finger nails. Please, let me kill them.

Voldemort used many hexes on me over time. He said it was to test my strength. But really he just got off on torturing kids. There was one hex he was particularly fond of. He used to giggle when he cursed me. The hex he seemed to love made my blood feel like hot lead coursing through my veins. The first time he used it I was seven. I thought that I was being tortured for hours, my mother told me later that I'd only been under the curse for a few moments. Anyone kept under the spell goes mad within three days. Within six they're dead from dehydration. Any of the unforgivable curses are too good for the people who hurt you. The hexes I'd like to use on them aren't even illegal. They're are no laws against them because their too horrible to think of someone actually using them. But I could use them for you. Let me kill them for you. I would make them wish that they had never hurt you.

You wince when I slide inside of you even through I prepared you well. Prepared you so slowly; so lovingly. I hate to see you in pain. So I hold you close and tell you how magnificent you are and how much I love you. I can't help but cover you in kisses. I run my fingers over the patterns on your body. "I love you," I say looking directly into your confused eyes.

"That's great," you say in a tone that told me you thought it was anything but good, "but, if you don't move soon, I'll kill you."

And in that moment I want to kick you out of my bed. I know you're just lashing out at the easiest target. And it must be hard for you to do this. I know that I'm the only wizarding person who's seen you naked. But Christ, Harry. When I'm sheathed in you? Don't be a total arse.

When I finally move I think I might be sick. What I feel inside of you fortifies my decision. Those bastards will die. I can feel it rubbing against me. You're filled with scar tissue. How could anyone ever hurt you?

You come moment before I do. And you look so disappointed. I'm sorry. This was meant to be prefect. This was supposed to be about you. Leaning forward I kiss you slowly, savoring what might well be our last kiss. And you push me off so forcefully that I fly back and hit my head on the footboard Gingerly, I touch the back of my skull. My fingers come away covered in blood. But that doesn't hurt. No, what burns is the look you're giving me. Scrambling over the bed you avert your gaze from mine and start pulling on clothes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," you say pulling on a sock.

"Nothing my arse. What's. Wrong?" I ask reaching out and touching your shoulder.

You shrink away from the touch. "You didn't hurt me."

"Of course I didn't," I'm slightly offended that you thought I might.

"You were meant to," you say in a monotone voice.

"What? You never told me you liked that." I don't know if I could have done it even if you had told me to. I can't hurt you.

You laugh tiredly sounding down heartened and thirty years older. "I don't! This wasn't about that I wanted!"

"This was entirely about you! I wanted to make you feel good!" I'm on the verge of just crying because I feel totally rent, disappointed, a little bit dizzy, and frustrated.

"You did," you assure me, "better than anyone's ever made me feel."

"But you're going," I say softly while shaking my head. I don't get it.

"Yeah, it's late." I look at my watch. You're right. In fact the clock face reads, "It's late." You slept for most of the day. And we fucked for the rest of it. That's what it was, wasn't it, Harry? Fucking. I feel so bloody stupid.

"Goodnight then," I say rolling onto my side, facing away from you. I can't bear to watch you walk out on me. And if I thought I felt ill before, well, that was nothing compared to this.

"You're bleeding," you sound shocked.

I shrug and sigh but don't turn around, "You pushed me away." I can hear you move as you reach for me. "Don't touch me right now." The bed dips as you get up. "I'm sorry."

The door clicks shut behind you. And I'm glad that the senior prefects get their own rooms. I don't have to worry about crying. Suddenly I can't stand to be in bed. I jump up and grab my cloak off the chair, not caring when the cold fabric touches my skin.

I'm good at math. Rejoyce made us take a lot of statistical/logical math classes. Practical thinking is the key to honing magic. And I'm king at probabilities. There's an easy trick to it. Take the typical problem. You have a bag full of marbles, what's the probability that you'll pull out a red one? The trick is to ask a different question. What's the probability that you won't get a red one? Well I know where you aren't and thus I know where you are. You're about six feet in front of me walking down the hall making far too much noise even under the invisibility cloak.

And then suddenly, you're gone. I can't hear your footsteps anymore. You've given me the slip. I sit down with my back against the wall. I'm tired of chasing you, Mr. Potter. I can't do it anymore. I'll hang up the mantle of stalker. Finally I let the tears fall, feeling so defeated. "I'm sorry," I whisper. The old habit of talking aloud creeps back, my mother used to hit me when I spoke to people who weren't there, she called it weak. And Father thought my enemies would over hear me someday. But I think best out loud. And I need to say this. "I thought I was different from everyone else. But I'm not. Everyone wants something from you. I thought I didn't. but I did."

* * *

I know it's a weird place to stop but I need the rest of this scene to be Harry's voice so it has to end here!! 


	7. 7

Note 1st: Harry freaks while Draco heals

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things. Nothing belongs to me, except for the ethosphere, the realm of unused magical objects. A sort of limbo for magic.

Thanks for all the feedback!!

Happy Christmas, everyone! Sorry the gift is a tad late, Kitty.

Thank you Cassie for the beta-ing!

* * *

I can hear you moving behind me so I stop walking. You can't follow what you can't hear. Sliding up against the wall I pray you don't brush up against me. I had to get out of your room. You didn't hurt me. Why not? Silent tears are flooding my vision. The sounds of your footsteps stop and I breathe a noiseless sigh of relief. I hear the material of your cloak rub against the wall as you sit down. I can't look at you. I'm too afraid of what I'll see so I keep my back towards you. I'll need to get away soon, I'm about to start sobbing.

Then you start to speak, "I'm sorry," you say softly, "I thought I was different from everyone else, but I'm not. Everyone wants something from you. I thought I didn't. but I did." Oh please, please, Draco give me a reason to hate you! Tell me what you wanted, objectify me. "I guess I didn't even think about it," you continue, "I guess I thought you'd give it to me." You snort, sounding disgusted with yourself. "I wanted to not be your whore." The temperature in the corridor suddenly drops about 20 degrees I turn around slowly. "I didn't even think it was a possibility. I thought you wanted me. And the sick thing is, if I had known beforehand, I still would have slept with you. I wanted to make you feel better, but you're still miserable. I don't know what I did wrong. If you came back now you wouldn't even have to say anything, I would go back to bed with you, if that's what you wanted. I wanted to not be your whore. But I am, and that's my problem not yours. It's my own damn fault. I'm just like everyone else, I expected something from you which you didn't owe me. I'm sorry." Between hitched breathes you sniff as tears pour inelegantly down your face.

You're apologizing because I hurt you? I think I might throw up. All of my resolve crumbles. I can't hide behind my rules because you've broken every one of them. I'm so damn confused, all I know is this: the whole fucking point of this episode was to save you from being hurt. Well, you're hurt. And I have no idea what to do. I never wanted to hurt you. You deserve an explanation. I've explained it to you so many times in my head that it almost seems redundant. Right now, I just want you to stop crying.

My first step towards you echoes and you lift your head. You're looking directly at me and I can see deep into your eyes. You look broken; eyes filled with shame, horror and misery. A breathy, sad laugh bubbles out of your chest, "I'm so fucking stupid." You say as you scrub at your face, and you look like a five year old child. Damn I want to protect you so badly.

As I crouch down next to you I pull off the invisibility cloak, "Not stupid, not a whore, you didn't do anything wrong. You're good, sexy, kind. I love you." You turn to me and I'm so scared that I'm actually shaking. "Can you forgive me?"

Leaning in you kiss me slowly. Breaking away you pant, "What the hell is going on?" It suddenly hits you, "You love me?"

"Didn't want to. Thought you would hurt me. They always hurt me. I thought you would too. Wanted you to. I wanted to hate you. Wasn't supposed to hurt you. No one's ever cared how I felt. No one's ever wanted me to stay. They didn't want to look at me."

"I'll never hurt you and I'll always want you to stay. I love looking at you."

"I know, that's the problem." I feel my throat clog up with tears that I resent too much to allow them to fall.

"Why?" You look so frustrated and I shake my head slowly.

"They're dead, Draco."

"The men? You killed them?"

"No. The people who loved me. Everyone I've ever loved has died. It's my fault. My parents, Sirius, Cedric, Cho all dead. My fault. Can't love you. You'll die." I start to cry and I feel like a fool, so inefficient I can't even give you a comprehensible explanation. Useless. And then you pull me close and I cry harder. "I'm not worth your pain or your love. I'm just a hole. Not really human. Not good for anything. No, there are some things I'm good at. I can kill anyone who touches me and I'm great at spreading my legs. All you need to do is hit me a little and I'll be a good little slut."

"You, are no one's slut. I'll kill them all. No one is ever going to hurt you again. You are human, you wouldn't be crying if you weren't. I love you. You're worth everything."

"You'll die." I feel rent.

"Voldemort's dead. No one's taking me away."

"It's not him anymore. It's this mark." I run my hand over the scar. "Even when he had no power I was screwed. I had to go live with my uncle. Sirius got framed for my parents' murder."

"Your scar?" you ask softly, "You'd be happy if it was gone?"

"No one would recognize me, or stare at me, or want some part of me. Maybe my own luck wouldn't recognize me." You stroke my forehead gently and when your fingers graze my scar it feels soothing. It always itches when people touch it but now I shut my eyes and relax. You know the boundaries now; all you have to do is respect me. You've always respected me.

Standing slowly you hold a hand out to me, "Let me help?"

I swallow harshly, "Where?"

"Prefect's toilet. Trust me." You beg me with your eyes and I just nod and let you help me up. I pull the cloak over us both. Obediently I follow you through the corridors and up two flights of stairs. Stopping in front of the entrance you whisper the password and lead me inside. The candles light themselves as we close the door and slip the cloak off. And you just smile at me and walk to the huge mirror while motioning for me to stand in front of you.

I cross the floor and you slip your hands around my waist. You hook your chin over my shoulder. As I watch you I can't stop myself from grinning; you're so wrapped up in watching me that you don't realize I'm studying you. "Stop looking at me, Harry." Ok, maybe you do realize. "Look at yourself. Memorize your face."

"I know my face."

"Fine," you pull me around and kiss me so hard that I feel my knees give out and I'm thankful that your right hand is holding my hip tightly. Your left hand traverses my hair and face. And you're so warm, and you taste so good, and you feel so good that I almost want to die. Fucking good way to go. You bite my lower lip.

"Love you," I whisper.

A smile flashes over you lips as you go, "Shhhhh," against my mouth, " I love you too but shhh," you say breathlessly before attacking my mouth again. When you finally pull back you're gasping. You stare into my eyes, "Look into the mirror."

I turn to the glass and look at you. You're wearing that self-satisfied smirk of yours. And then I look at myself. And.

The scar.

My scar.

Is gone.

I can't stop staring at my reflection. I can barely breathe. I run my fingers over my forehead.

"It's not hidden; it's gone, " you say softly as though you don't want to invade on the moment.

"Gone forever?"

"No, it's still in the ethosphere. Do you want it back?"

"Can you destroy it?"

"Are you sure you want me to?" You run your fingers up and down my arms. Biting your lip, you look so unsure.

"God yes. I don't want it to exist." I've read about the ethosphere for classes. It's sort of a holding pen for magic. A limbo for unused power and magical things that might be wanted at a later date. I've never known a student who actually tapped into it. This is big magic your using. Banishing anything to the ethosphere is hard and you're barely thinking about it while using wandless magic. You shut your eyes for a moment and then nod, "Done? Where the hell did you learn that?"

"Rejoyce, my old school." I suddenly have so much more respect for wizarding junior schools. "They liked to hone the individuals skills. I like healing."

"Does it only work on magical wounds?"

"No. Which ones do you want me to take off?"

"All of them. I don't want any of them left."

Nodding again you say, "If you concentrate on what I'm doing it will hurt. The spell is meant to be used on an unconscious body." You start to undo the buttons of my robe. "If you think about it your magic will touch my magic and the combined force will be painful for both of us."

Done with my robe, you push it off my shoulders and move on to my shirt. "How am I supposed to not think about it? This is the best thing that's ever happened to me," I say earnestly.

You smile and kiss me. Making short work of my shirt you pull at my hair to re-tilt my head slightly. Your hands slide over me. They're so warm. Your mouth is so demanding and I feel so needy it hurts. I need to touch more of you. Need to taste your skin. My fingers slide between the clasps of your cloak and touch your warm chest. Pulling away from the kiss I look down and see that your feet are bare as are your legs. You're totally naked under that cloak, aren't you? Merlin, that's hot. I fall back happily into your kisses. Fingers, clumsy with lust and joy, have trouble unfastening the clasps but finally your cloak falls to the floor with a swooshing sound.

Abruptly you pull back and shut your eyes, concentrating. I glance into the mirror and I nearly die from shock. Every scar on my upper body is gone. There isn't a mark on my torso, back, chest, or stomach. My arms are unmarred; I'm clean. I gasp and upon hearing me your eyes fly open.

"Ok?" you ask anxiously.

"No. No, not ok. Fucking fantastic." I'm too shocked to put any enthusiasm into my words.

You unbutton my trousers asking, "Is this alright?"

"Fine," I reply. You smile as your hands slip into my pants, "I like how you ask. It makes me feel safe."

"I like making you feel safe," you reply dropping to your knees, "but I'd rather make you feel sexy."

"You already are," I say as you pull off my trainers, trousers, and pants.

Looking up at me you laugh softly, "Good, I want that to be my job from now on."

"Gonna keep me?"

"As long as you let me." You kiss a line over my stomach.

"Forever," I whisper, dropping my head back and shutting my eyes as you lap at my navel.

"Why the sudden change of heart change?" You ask. I can tell from your tone that you're trying not to push me.

Opening my eyes I smile slowly down at you. "I was afraid. You would have died. But you took away my scar. And now no one will recognize me, no one will kill you just to hurt me. The fates won't fuck me over now that I'm not marked." You tap my ankles and I lift my feet one after another but keep talking, "I loved you but I couldn't admit it even to myself because you would have died. I hated that you watched me. You saw me and I was sure it was gonna get you killed."

Your hands are on my hips and I can't help but watch. They act like erasers on a blackboard wiping away scars like they're nothing more than chalk. Suddenly your hands aren't warm: they're burning. You fall back from your kneeling potion, flat onto your arse. Glowing dark red your fingers pulsate and flex as though you have no control over them. Hand prints glow dark green on my thighs. The flesh twitches like my muscles have been electrically shocked. House colours, how fucking typical.

"I'm so sorry." I feel like such a fucking fool.

"It's not the first time." You say, "I didn't learn on an unconscious body. Lots of people can't stop themselves from looking. I couldn't when my friend David was practicing on me."

"How many people can do it?"

"There were six healers in my year and there were 500 kids al together."

"So it's rare."

Smiling you say softly, "You could do it."

"What?" I laugh, "How do you know?"

"Any parseltongue can do it. They're often a linked gene. Every parseltongue can heal but not every healer can speak to snakes." You stand up shakily, slightly gray from all of your exertions. Looking at your arms you find a small scar. "All you do is stroke the skin and focus on how badly you want it gone. It's harder when the person isn't bleeding or the scar has no negative connotations for the healer. But just focus on wanting a perfect lover. . . or something."

I swallow convulsively. Is that what you want? I'll never be perfect, Draco. "Was that what you were thinking about?"

"No, I was planning the deaths of all the people who hurt you. I already have my perfect lover. I never want to change you. You're fine the way you are." You peck my mouth and it's so casual that it hurts. So easy, safe, and nice. Not sexual, just loving.

You glance at your watch which now reads, "It's late but this is no time to sleep!" And you start talking to one of the mermaids in the paintings, about the weather. Christmas time in Scotland is so nice. Only place in Britain with snow. You say that you'll stay here for the holiday. And I focus on your scar. I don't want to disappoint you so I focus on that. I want to please you so I just focus on healing you perfectly.

"Stop," you say pulling your arm away.

"Is it not working?" I ask softly.

"You've already done it. That was amazing. It took me three hours to heal my first scar." You pull me close with one arm wrapped around my hips. One slow kiss later you're just holding me close. "I'm proud of you. I'm kind of proud of myself too, I taught a good wizard a new skill."

"I'm glad you're pleased," I reply, "So are all of my scars gone?"

"Externally at least."

"So all I've got now are the emotional ones," I say dryly while looking past you towards the paintings. You don't reply for a moment and I suddenly realize what you meant. "GET THEM OUT OF ME!"

"Calm down," you sound so cold and business like but then you speak more softly, "Innate magic gets dangerous when its user is angry, you know that. And by healing my scar you've most likely opened up some pathways."

Most wizards don't use much innate magic. Wands and spells act as barriers between the person and their power. I rarely use that sort of magic. Remus came back to Hogwarts to teach us during our sixth year. No one else was willing to teach us wandless and wordless magic. No one believed that teenagers should be armed with such skills. But we were fighting a war. Remus had nothing to lose by placing himself in the public eye. Most of Hogwarts' parents already hated him. Wandless, wordless magic frighteningly dangerous it opens up channels within you that you generally don't touch, and arguably shouldn't. It scares the shit out of me. But you, you're incredible with it.

"Fix me?" I ask feeling only slightly calmer but definitely more composed.

"You're fine. But," you smile looking somehow artificially embarrassed. "You save something in your teeth. Go like this." You bare your teeth and I roll my eyes but do as you say. But instead of touching my teeth you slip a finger over my lower gum and inside my cheek. "That's done."

"You lied."

"I wasn't sorted into Slytherin just because I need to live in a dungeon to remain pale and devastatingly beautiful." You smile a sad smile and say in a furtive tone, "I've never been very good at lying."

I don't know why you say it so quietly. I don't know why you say it at all. But I can tell that You haven't told that to anyone else. I can tell that it's important, a sort of testimony; a proclamation. And I like that you told me but I don't know what to say. And I don't know if I should thank you for telling me or be scared of your tone, it's dark, sad, and somewhat childish. "I bit through my cheek when I was six. I fell out of a tree. It has nothing to do with the other scars."

You smile and I notice your unnatural pallor again. You slowly pull me to the floor and lean against the bathtub closing your eyes. "You ok?"

"Just a little tired. I'm fine." I slide into your lap and you laughed tiredly. "What are you doing?"

"Helping," I whisper and kiss you slowly and push some of my magic into your mouth. I wonder what Remus would say if he saw how I was using his lessons.


	8. 8

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Tattoos, friendships, and letters, Oh my!

NOTE: An aga is a type of stove that has a pilot light that never turns off. They are always warm heat the whole kitchen up. They're lovely things and generally they're a sign of being old money.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: Much less angsty, corny in parts.

Thanks for all the feedback!

Thank you, Cassy, for the beta-ing!

* * *

Your mouth, tongue, teeth, and power are at my command. I remember thinking you tasted like shrove pancakes and it's true. You taste like an indulgence that is rare and needs to be savored. Sweet, and sharp, and divine. I love it. Pulling back I lick my lips, clear my throat, and say, "Not too much; you'll pass out if you give me all your power." 

"You would take care of me if I did." Fuck, the trust you place in me turns me on. Your eyes are half lidded, is it lust or fatigue? "Get rid of the rest of them," you order softly.

"You're sure that's what you want? No one can see them."

Shaking your head slowly you looking me in the eye and say beseechingly, "I can't bare it."

I nod: I wouldn't like it either. "Don't think about what I'm doing. I don't fancy burning your bum." You push yourself up onto your knees a little so you're hovering above my lap. Painfully slowly and gently I push two fingers into you. You're still slick from before and the heat makes me gasp. How is it that your skin is always so cool and yet inside you're a furnace?

You make low mewing sounds as I slide my fingers in and out slowly, "Merlin, you feel good," you whisper urgently, "don't stop. Don't ever stop."

That's what you need to be doing, don't think about what I'm actually doing. Just think of this as sex, not volatile magic. Your eyes drift shut, your mouth is slightly open as you breathe shallowly, and you bounce on my lap as though there is nothing else in the world save for this moment. I can't stop myself from biting your clavicle, it stands out in sharp relief from you body and looks all the more pale because of it. I lick and nibble my way up your neck and pause to whisper in your ear, "You are so gorgeous."

"I love you," you whisper between pants with eyes still shut. And though you can't see me I smile. Sweat collects on your upper lip but your skin is still cool to the touch. I don't understand it but I don't try to comprehend the physics as I lick the precious liquid away. Everything about you tastes so good.

There are no scars left inside of you and I say softly, "I'm finished." But I make no move to change our positions and you don't cease in your movements. I move my free hand over your hips, through your curls, and pull at you gently. "I love you too," I whisper as you drop your head to my shoulder.

Moaning you say, "Right there," as my nail scratches over a spot inside of you. Hot, panted breath against my ear contrasts the cold porcelain floor and bath I'm leaning against and makes me shiver. I turn to kiss you but at this awkward angle I can only reach your ear. You become rigid against me as you come and then you sag down into my lap. Huffing a laugh into my neck you sound slightly abashed as you say, "Maybe we should take this to bed. No, wait," You lift your head slightly and shake it as though to dislodge fog, "You're done?" I nod and you stand up abruptly. You laugh happily as you turn away from me and I have the overwhelming urge to bite your bottom but somehow manage to control myself.

I drag a finger through the come on my stomach, making patterns in your spend. Racing over to the sink you look like a little kid save for your disheveled, wanton, and generally debauched state. You grab your wand and cleanse us both quickly, pity I didn't get to taste that part of you. You pick up a bar of soap from the sink and with a flourish of your wrist you're not holding lavender soap but a knife. "What are you doing? Come back and kiss me," I laugh as you fall back into my lap. You hand me the blade and I asked bemusedly, "What?"

"Mark me." You sound so even.

The humor of the scene dies instantly as does my erection. "No."

"Please, I want a mark I'm proud of."

"Not a scar. I don't want to scar you." I made you a silent promise once that I could leave an indelible mark on you but I can't do it like this. A mark, a bond of sorts, should not be forged in blood.

"It won't hurt. I'll have had much worse in the past."

"I told you: I'll never hurt you."

"But I want it."

"I refuse to debase you, even if you don't see it that way." As I shake my head I turn the knife back into soap. "I can mark you in other ways."

You clearly think it's innuendo or a platitude as you say somewhat desperately, "But I want something everyone could see." You look at the floor as you say, "Proof."

"You know about wizarding tattoos?"

There's excitement in your eyes as you nod, "You can do that?" You sound awed.

"No. Before they let you get a real one they make you have a removable one for a year. I can do that."

Wizarding tattoos are beautiful. They draw on the power of the artist and the wearer. They move, they have texture, and sound, and they can be very volatile on an instable wizard. If a wizard who cannot control his power has one it can leach all of his magic and then turn it against him. They don't care about their wearer's well-being. They simply lust after power and are willing to kill their host for it. They are more permanent than flesh and can never be removed. But, they're beautiful.

"Yes, please, Draco."

"I'll do it so that you're the only one who is able to take it off or change it. No one else will be able to alter it: not me, not Dumbledore, not your own child. All you have to do to rid yourself of it is touch it and concentrate."

"I wish I'd gone to Rejoyce."

Laughing I say, "I wasn't taught this. I picked it up from being one of the cool kids who smoked behind the sheds at dinnertime." I crack my neck and realize how drained I am. "I need more beverage." I feel cool at throwing one of your muggle terms at you. And you thought I didn't know anything about that world.

You look deeply confused and then understanding dawns on your face and you laugh, "You mean juice?" You kiss my nose and place your hands on my shoulders. The power strums as it flows into my body. "That was so cute. Pureblooded fool," you say affectionately as I draw patterns on your abdomen. I work quickly and silently as I weave our power together and then push it back into you. I never take my eyes off my work as even this false tattoo could prove dangerous if done carelessly. Which one of our DADA teachers used to shout, "Constant vigilance!"? Whoever it was would be proud of me now. . . or sickened by the sight of us. I can't look at your face and I don't know if this hurts you but I just forge on, hoping that if you are in any discomfort it's only minor.

A wave of nausea rolls over me as I finish. Having a constant flow of power going in and out isn't healthy. "Done," I whisper as I rub your skin.

You laugh as you realize what I've drawn, "Freak," you say affectionately as you stroke your stomach.

A green puppy with a snake tail chases a red dragon around your hips. The dragon has feathers and scales and turns around to catch the dog. They fall over in a heap below your bellybutton. You hiss as the dog stretches contentedly and digs his claws into your flesh, "You'll get used to it."

Smiling widely at my green complexion you ask, "Are you ok?"

"I need to close my eyes for a moment." Resting my head against the cold bath makes me feel slightly better. I haven't felt this rotten since I drank too much at my father's Christmas party when I was 12.

"You're hot," you say as you run your ever cool hands through my hair.

"Thank you."

"No, well, yes that too, but I meant heat wise."

"I cooked myself from the inside. Gimme a minute."

I start to shiver and you kiss me softly, "Are you ok to move a little? Let's get you into bed."

"Will you stay with me?" I don't mean to sound needy but I'm very sick at this point and if you leave I might cry. . . again. Please don't leave me. Merlin, don't leave me alone. After all this I can't be by myself.

"Come upstairs with me," you say as you clamber off of me and stand up.

"You have roommates."

"So? I just want to get you into a warm bed and the tower's is closer than the dungeon."

"They might see me."

"Like I care." You sneer a little at my concern but then stop. The scorn is a complete throwback to the way you've treated me with for so long. You sigh softly and with a contrite look of fear slipping over your visage you ask softly, "Do you not want them to see you? I'll come downstairs with you if you like. I don't give a fuck about what they think. I don't care about them in any way."

Biting my lip to feel a pain other than in my stomach and eyes I try to shake my head but that makes things worse, "I'm about to pass out or vomit. I want to be in bed with you; anywhere you like is perfect just so long as it's dark and soft."

"Then come up with me," You start pulling on clothes while studying me as I fasten the catches on my cloak. My fingers tremble and I start to feel cold even though I'm running a bad temperature. You hold out your trainers, "They're a bit small but they'll keep your feet warm."

"What about your feet?" I ask through chattering teeth.

Your standing over me and you give me an odd sort of smile I've never seen before. It makes me feel warmer. "I'm not about to catch my death from fatigue." You kneel in front of me and slide my feet into the shoes that are only slightly too small. As you tie the laces you say, "If I'd realized how tapped out you were I would have held off on the tat."

"Hey, I still had enough fruit punch to do it," I protest weakly.

"Juice," you correct softly as you pull me up right and support me by the elbow.

I can't keep my eyes open: everything is too bright and keeps moving. I was never this tired after a battle. Killing people takes less power than healing them. It's much easier to take life than to create something beautiful. It's less taxing on the body to destroy than to soothe. And again, the difficulty of the spell is dependent upon the emotional connection: I was driven to heal your scars so it wasn't as taxing but I had no emotional need to tattoo you and so it was much more difficult. Couple that with the fact that I was using your power and mine, mixing foreign and familiar, and I now feel half dead. Everything in my head is swimming. But when I chance opening my eyes the look on your face makes all the ache worth it. You're not looking at me; your eyes are focused on a mid-distance. And you have a tiny smile on your face. It's not an expression most people would notice. It isn't a grin, or a look of mirth. You just look. . . content, at ease. I've never see you look so young before. Ignoring the throbbing in my head I kiss you deeply and you laugh into my mouth.

Pulling away you say, "I love you." But then you look embarrassed as though you've maybe said it too many times in the course of the night. Silly boy, you can't ever say it enough.

"Say it again?" I beg as I lean into you for support.

With and indulgent smile you say, "I love you." Without waiting for a reply you throw the invisibility cloak over us both. And you then half carry half lead me to the tower. I lean heavily into you as I can't stay upright by myself.

I'd come to expect that all of the dorms were cold. I thought the tower would be drafty. They wonder why so many Slytherins go bad? Is it any wonder. They keep us down there is the dark cold and tell us that the only Slytherins who ever made a name for themselves were evil. We're taught to be wicked: it what is expected of us. If we lived in a nice, bright, warm, welcoming tower like this one maybe it would be less inevitable that we would become dark wizards. The fire is burning with a happy crackle reminding me of the kitchen at the manor. The house elves practically raised me. My mother was never in the manor. My father worked and even when he was in the house he was too afraid to show me kindness for fear my mother found out and killed us both, but the house elves weren't like that. What could she do to them that was any worse than how they already lived? I used to go down there and they would feed me, tell me story, and I would fall asleep by the ever warm aga oven. My father would come back to the house. And he would find me there and put me in my bed upstairs. He used to shout at the house elves and warn them of what would happen if their mistress found out what they were doing. My mother thought I shouldn't be babied, after all I was nearly five.

You pull me up to your dorm and gently lean me against the bed. You start to unabashedly strip off and I drink in the sight of you. You are so uninhibited without the scars and I want to keep you like that forever. From under your lashes you watch as I take off my cloak. The trunk at the end of your bed is sitting open and I lean towards it to throw my cloak inside. Reaching out you take the cape away from me and drop it to the floor. The Slytherin crest is facing upward. "Harry, are you sure? They'll know."

"I don't care. I've hidden so much for so long. Not gonna hide you." You smile, seeming nervous you add, "If you don't want them to know-"

"Don't be ridiculous." Kissing your cheek I pull you under the covers with me.

"You're boiling," you say as you shut the curtains and pull me close.

"I'm freezing." I reply as I rest my head against your warm body.

* * *

The morning light hurts my eyes. I'm not used to waking in daylight. You're still wrapped around me and fast asleep. I love that you feel so safe with me. As I run my hands over your shoulder blades your eyes flutter open. "Sorry," I whisper, "go back to sleep." 

Lying half awake you kiss my neck, "Last day of class."

"And we don't have potions as we had it yesterday. We're scheduled to have it after breakfast. And then you have Trelawney so you don't have that either and I don't have any class that period. So we can spend all morning in bed."

Stretching slowly you shaking your head, "Breakfast first. Then back to bed." But you then close your eyes and start going back to sleep.

I hear Seamus talking, "He's not alone, but who is it?" He picks up the cloak, "Slytherin? Who is there in Slytherin?"

There's silence for a moment and then Dean says, "Blaise Zabini? He's kinda cute."

Ron's voice pipes up, "Harry's not a poof! And whoever it is isn't a Slytherin. It has to be a joke."

As you open your eyes they're already rolling, "Pretty lame joke," you whisper.

The curtain's ripped back and your friends stand there gapping. The light is pouring into my eyes and I wince, feeling hung over from the night before. "I can't believe we slept up here: I hate morning."

"Ron, shut the curtain." You yawn and start to turn over.

His ears turn red and as he shouts the colour bleeds over his face, "What were you thinking!"

He's looking at your bare shoulders appraisingly. Did he know? Did he have any idea what you were hiding. Does he know how far you've come? "Shut the curtain, I'll talk to you at breakfast."

"No," he points his wand at my throat as I flinch as the wood digs into my Adam's apple. I can't reach my wand and I'm still drained from the night before. Trying to call it to me while I have another wizard's wand at my throat could be dangerous. All of my wandless hexes are too dangerous to use on this idiot. I could kill him and that wouldn't be very good would it now? Dear Merlin! Don't let us survive the war only to die at the hand of your idiot friend, a fucking weasel. It's a perversion of humor. A joke of cosmic proportions. Would you hate me if I killed him to protect us? How far will he take this?

You bat the wand away as though it weren't a dangerous weapon. "Sod off, Ron."

If looks could hex you'd be dead. He glares at you and you just smirk. "It's sick," he says. And your smirk becomes a little less amused and a little more fixed.

"Downstairs, twenty minutes." You cast a wandless charm that pulls the curtains tightly shut. And you think you're no good at wandless magic? "Fuck him," you mutter and kiss my forehead, "doesn't he realize that I never liked him in the first place?" you whisper and pull me back to you. "Five more minutes, then we'll go face the stupid music." You smile against my ear, "See? It wasn't too bad. One rather pathetic death threat. Seamus was checking you out and Dean just wanted his breakfast. You ok?"

"I don't like him."

You laugh, "Well neither do I."

* * *

Twenty minutes later we're entering the dining hall just like you promised Ron. I'm wearing robes I summoned from my room and for the life of me I can't figure out why I didn't do it earlier. I get a few odd looks from the Slytherin table but I just throw a dark sneer at them and sit down. No one will say anything; they're all too afraid. There won't be any rumors in my house because people will fear that it could get back to me and then I might. . . lose my temper. 

You are having angry little words with Ron. Or rather he's having them with you as you just look bored. Seamus and Dean look worried but not angry, Hermione looks interested, and Ron looks like he might have an embolism. You just watch him while he rants and reply only when he pauses for breath. From all the way across the hall I can't hear what's being said until Ron shouts, "Maybe we shouldn't be friends!"

The hall falls totally silent and I hear as you speak softly, almost kindly towards him, "Don't make threats you aren't willing to back up. You're all mouth and trousers. And you will likely regret this." You look sad. Do you pity him? You said before that you didn't like him. Did you ever like him? You told me that everyone you loved died. So have you stayed friends with him because you didn't care for him and thus knew he was safe? How sad, for both of you. You must have felt so guilty knowing that you would never be the friend he thought you were. And here you are offering him that "friendship" back facsimile of intimacy you've shared for so long.

"No! I'll go through with this one! It's him or me."

Hermione is shaking her head and trying to shut her lover up. She knows what side her bread is buttered on. If she loses you as a friend she's lost a huge asset. You laugh slightly, disbelievingly, and turn away from the pair and towards Dean and Seamus. By ignoring him you've given your answer.

"I can't believe your ruining our friendship over a snake!"

As you turn back to him slowly you look as though you're surprised he spoke again and you study the redhead up and down before saying, "Not a snake: a dragon."

Every fucking eye in the place is on me including the professors'. The line is as corny as all hell and I would laugh were it not for the fact that I'm being watched. Instead I keep my eyes firmly locked with yours. And then the mail comes and breaks the connection.

The hall becomes painfully loud. I hate this school. Rus is watching me with an eyebrow raised. I'm still angry at him for the night before. How dare he threaten you? How dare he act as though he was somehow doing it on my behalf. I glare at him slightly and he looks confused but I ignore the inquisitive look and turn back to you. You're much paler than you should be. You're shaking as you read a letter. When you glance up at me you look so scared and lost. Standing quickly, you practically run from the hall. Not caring what they'll say I follow hot on your heals.

You're standing with your back leaning on the wall, half slumped, directly outside of the hall. Dejection mars your face and you look so haggard, I'd hoped to never see you wear that expression again. Without a word you hand me the letter.

_Come home. You are needed. We have plans for you._

_Uncle Vernon._

"So you go." You look horrified as though I'd just kicked a dead puppy. As though I've just betrayed you worse than anyone ever has. You look as though I've just pulled my wand and shouted, "April fools! I'm a Death Eater." When I reach out to cradle your face you flinch, "Harry, I'll be there with you. No one will get within four feet of you."

"I don't wanna go." You sound like you're a six year old being told that he can't have a pony at his birthday as his mother's dying and her weakened immune system can't cope with it. So resigned is your tone that it's as though you're already accepting what the man might do once you get there. The pain doesn't have to be inevitable. You're so strong and I'll be there and no one will touch you. You'll have your fucking pony, I promise. I pull you close and stroke your hair as soothingly as I can through my anger at the way he's made you think of yourself.

"You'll be safe. I'll keep you safe." We're leaning against the wall and you bury your face in my neck. I feel tears running down my shoulder. I haven't seen you cry since you carried Cho's body back to the school after the last battle. We tried to levitate her away from you but you clung to her and got practically feral when anyone tried to touch you. You dragged her into a corner of the courtyard and rocked her corpse and wept. It was the most frightening thing I ever witnessed and I just wanted to comfort you. And now, now that I actually can comfort you, I feel so inadequate. "Don't be scared, love, he can't hurt you. I'll make sure he doesn't touch you."

Muffled you sniff, "You can't kill them. They're blood can't be on your hands. I can't lose you and they'll take you away."

"Ok."

"Promise me!" You pull back and look me in the eye as the tears pour freely down your face. "Even if he does manage to hurt me. You won't kill him."

I think about swearing on my mother's grave but we both know that I don't give a damn about her soul. "I swear on your mother's grave." The fist connects with my face before I even realize we have an audience. The force of the blow makes my head fly back. My face hits the stone wall with a jarring crack. I feel blood begin to slowly glug out of the wound.

Ron Weasley is standing there bold as brass, "How dare you talk about Harry's mother? Look! You've made him cry!"

I laugh at his self-righteous tone but you're not finding it humorous. You're positively livid and you suddenly whip out your wand hexing him so harshly he is actually lifted off the floor and thrown at the shut doors of the Great Hall. The doors swing open and he is left unconscious lying over the threshold.

"Is he dead?" I ask you conversationally as you rub at your eyes to get rid of the tears. McGonagall bounds out angrily into the hall. She must have lost the coin toss up at the head table as to who had to reprimand us.

"Sixty points from Slytherin for attacking a student," she says calmly. As she takes in the ruined state of my face she says, "And sixty from Gryffindor for starting it."

The whole damned school is watching through the open doors. So I just nod because there's no point in my correcting her she won't believe me. Suddenly you say, "Draco didn't do it: I did."

Looking between us it seems as though the fight you had inside is just now sinking into her and she says, "Alright, strike the points from Slytherin and make it an additional sixty from Gryffindor."

You nod and then turn to me. The wounds in my cheek and forehead are still bleeding which is rare for me so they must be deep. You stroke my face softly and I feel uncomfortable with the huge audience watching us until I see your hand come away without blood and realize that you were healing me.

"Mr. Potter," the professor gasps, "Where did you learn that? Ten points to Gryffindor."

"From Draco." Thanks a lot, now every bloody third year will want me to heal their spots. There was a reason I kept the skill quiet you know.

The woman smiles slightly ruefully at me, "Twenty points to Slytherin."

She walks to the weasel who's still unconscious and I whisper, "My room, now."


	9. 9

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Home has nothing to do with blood kin.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

Thanks for all the feedback!

Thank you, Cassy and Angelina, for the beta-ing! You're the best.

* * *

You lead me, half catatonic, down to your room. Pushing me to sit on your bed you drop to your knees in front of me. As you take my hands in yours you rest them on my lap. "Are you okay?" you ask softly.

"No," I say honestly.

"I love you," You look me in the eye as you speak, "Thank you for protecting me from the weasel; I'll protect you from everything."

Dropping my head I say, "I don't want to go there."

"You have to go, if only to tell them to fuck off. I'll be with you."

Nodding I say, "Yeah, that's part of it, actually. I know that you know what they did but I can't have you see it."

"I'm coming, Harry, nothing's going to change the way I think about you. I'm not letting you go alone."

"I don't want you to see. And you're right: I have to go. So let me go alone. Don't make a fuss."

You lean up on your knees and say, "It's not a fuss when it really matters. Take someone if not me. Don't put yourself in danger. Please, Harry, take an ally."

"You're the only one I have left," I say honestly.

"Please let me come? I'm scared for you."

And I pause. Scared for me? No one's ever been… "Fine. But can we rest here for a while first?" I just want you to touch me for a little while. You say you won't judge what you see but I know you will. How could you not feel disgusted when you see them touch me? I pull you up from the floor and you wrap yourself around me on the bed. We're fully clothed, and you're stroking my face, and I feel so safe. "Love you." I whisper.

"I love you too," you speak it like a vow.

"I'm scared," I admit.

Smiling gently you say, "So am I. But they're not going to hurt you anymore. No matter what is said or done I won't be anywhere but at your side. Nothing can change that. You'll just say that you're an adult by our laws and are never going back there. If anyone touches you they'll regret it. And then we'll come back and cuddle. Fuck the afternoon class we have Herbology. Does that sound agreeable?"

As I cuddle into you more I say, "Yeah."

"Harry, this isn't the end," you're stroking my face and you lean in to kiss me slowly, "Love you."

You roll us slowly so that I'm pressing you into the mattress, "You're so hot when you're under me," you laugh at my words. Your fingers run over my cheeks, down my neck, and over my back as I ask, "Can we make love?" Without a pause I start unbuttoning your robes.

"No," you cover my hands with yours, "Harry it won't solve any problems. It's not going to calm you down when you don't trust me."

"I trust you," I insist.

"You think I'll leave you. I care about you, not the way they think of you. Come here, maybe I can do something better, more reassuring, than sex," You pull me down and kiss me slowly as I feel the magical currents in the air shift as I fall into your open mind. You're bathing me in your love. Every inch of me glows as you allow me to slip through everything your experiencing. "I'm not going to run," you promise and I start to drift off. I see my magic seeping out of my body to touch you. You wind the power together with your own and then slip it back into my skin. "I'm inside of you; protecting you. Now get some sleep." I slip into unconsciousness as you take off my shoes.

* * *

When I wake up I'm curled into you. Under the covers I'm warm even though you stripped me of my outer robes. My fingers are tightly wound in your hair. So much so that my nails have gone blue but you don't seemed pained by my tugging. I try to untangle my fingers but that's when you wake up.

"Har?" you blink slowly. Reaching up you take my hands from your head, kiss my knuckles, and rest them against your chest. "How did you sleep?"

"It wasn't sleep; you knocked me out."

"You snore and drool while knocked out?"

"I did not!"

"Don't worry, it was endearing and sexy," you laugh and I kiss you.

I worry that if I _did_ drool there must be dry spit on my face but you don't seem to care. "Thank you for before, I mean: letting me into your head."

With a leer you say, "You're always welcome inside of me."

And I smile but say, "We're procrastinating, I should go."

"I'm coming too," you speak as if it's a statement but I can see that you're nervous.

Remembering the love and fear I felt when I was in your mind I nod: I owe it to you to let you come.

So we pull on clothing in silence. You run your fingers over my wrist in the most mundane yet reassuring gesture you've made all morning. You take off a bracelet you always wear and hold it out to me in offering. "It's a good luck charm. You can wear it if you like. I just thought. . . I'm not trying to mark you or anything. . . It's stupid."

You move to put the band back around your wrist but I stop you and take the band away, sliding it over my hand. "Thanks."

"You can cover it if you like. We saw a thing in Muggle Studies about mating rituals and I'm not trying to "pin" you. I'm not presumptuous enough to think-"

"I get it," I assure you, "of course the tattoo on my stomach is a definite mark."

"But you asked for that and no one can see it unless you want them to," you sound uncertain.

Nodding I say, "Yes, and I would run around naked if I could. No one "pins" their girlfriend anymore, that's from the fifties. And it's American, not English." I look at the bracelet and say, "What a morbid design." A sphinx was being strangled by a snake.

"They grant wishes when they die; it's when they're most powerful. The snake that strangles a sphinx lives forever."

Not knowing what to say I falter, "That's beautiful. . . I think." And I turn up my sleeve to make sure it's visible. "We should go," I say as I step into my trainers and lace them up.

The smile on your face is clearly supposed to comfort me but you're abnormally pale. You slide your hand into mine and your fingers are freezing. "I sent Uncle Rus -I mean- my godfather a note. If anyone asks, we were at the cottage all day."

Feeling cold inside I say, "You promised me you wouldn't hurt them."

"I promised not to kill them; promised not to get sent to Azkaban."

"But-"

You interrupt, "Do you trust me?" I nod. "Then all you need to do is remember that we were at the cottage."

* * *

Apparating while holding hands is difficult but well worth it. We arrive in Little Whinging still touching one another and it's oddly reassuring. While walking to the house in silence you are obviously trying to allow me time to think. I don't want to be thinking though so I start a conversation. "Excited to see my childhood home?" I ask trying to make things light.

In a terse way you reply, "Honestly I would rather be having my toenails eaten off by gnomes if it meant that we could still be safe at the castle."

When you voice what I'm thinking I feel validated. I point to the playground, "I used to like that place. I would go there at night. No one ever found me."

"Maybe we can play on the swings once we've dealt with your uncle." You squeeze my hand, reassuring me that you'll be there after we see them, that you won't run.

The house is in view far too quickly. You move to drop my hand but I cling instead, so you weave our fingers together instead of relinquishing your hold. And I say, "I don't want to accommodate them anymore."

And you say, "I wasn't sure if we were trying to avoid rocking the train." You have a thing for Muggle expressions, don't you? I can't figure out if you're mutilating them on purpose.

"Boat," I correct, "forget rocking it. It's been sinking for years. I can't be bothered to bail it out anymore; not when I have you to hold me in the water."

You seem lost in the metaphor but reply, "I'll always hold you."

Knocking on the door I feel ill but you're still holding my hand. Your thumb caresses my knuckles. The door swings open and he's standing there. All the fear I've ever felt crashes back into me. "Hello," he says with a warmth that doesn't reach his eyes. "Why are you dressed like that?"

"You called for me on a school day." In the past he'd've killed me for turning up wearing my school uniform. It would have been a harsh beating, a forced apologetic blowjob as penance, and a week in the closet with only bread and water. But what can he do with you standing here?

"I'll tell them St. Brutus' made you wear a dress as punishment."

I shrug, "Fine, I don't care."

"Come in."

"No, I've come to say I'm not coming back. By our laws I'm an adult."

Anger shines in his eyes, "Well by my rules you're my boy. And my rules are law here."

Shaking my head I say, "I'm not your boy. And I'm not following your rules." I see him staring at our touching palms and watch his eyes travel up my wrist. I push up my sleeves with my free hand, "You haven't left a mark on me."

He tries a different approach, "You need to be here. Your aunt says that bitch of a mother did something so you're safe here. This is your home."

"Yes, being here protected me from Voldemort. He's dead. I killed him last year."

"So why did you come back over the summer?" he sneers.

I can't find a reply for a moment, mute I stand there. How do I explain that I thought I deserved this? How can I say I felt safer under his harsh care than by myself? How do I say fear and shame kept me immobile? "I. . . "

"Unless you enjoy the attention you get here. Do you like how we make you feel? Do we make you feel beautiful?"

"I'm leaving and never coming back." I turn to leave and you're moving with me. Uncle Vernon grabs my wrist and makes a strange, strangling noise. I let go of you and swing around to push him away. "Don't fucking touch me!" I shout, freaked out by the man's sudden contact.

He falls backward too easily and you say softly, "We should go, Harry."

I push past my prone uncle and walk into the house. In the living room there are four men, including Dudley, moaning much like my uncle. "What did you do?" I ask looking at how pale you've turned.

One man isn't in pain and you direct your attention to him, "How much did you pay to be here?" There's a cold glint in your expression that I haven't seen on you for ages. "How much did you pay for the honor of touching this beautiful young man?"

The man, who I've never seen before, sounds apprehensive. "£200?"

"£200? Well, Harry, he paid his money: touch him." The coldness is still in your eyes so I reach out and touch the man's arm, hoping you'll calm down, and he screams and convulses. "Do you think he charged your cousin?"

"I'm sure," I say, not seeing what you're asking.

You walk back to the door and feel through my uncle's pockets. Pulling out a roll of cash you say, "One thousand pounds. That's yours." You hold it out to me and I take it just so that I can hold your hand. "We should go. Are we going back to school?"

"Can we go someplace else?" I ask softly.

"Anywhere you like, Harry."

"Grimmauld Place?"

You make an assenting noise but say, "Of course, but I've never been or heard of there so can you keep me close when we Apparate?"

With a nod I pull you close to me and Apparate away quickly because I can't bear the place any longer. I can feel that we've arrived but you're still holding onto me. Stroking the back of your head I ask, "What was that?"

"The protection spell I placed on you earlier. Remember when I wove our magic together? I had to protect you."

Feeling the anger rising inside of me, I pull back and say, "You promised. You promised, Draco."

"I promised I wouldn't kill them, that I wouldn't go to prison. I also promised not to let them hurt you. I found the middle ground."

Bitterly laughing I say, "Are you going to tell me that wasn't illegal? You're going to go to prison! You stupid, foolish. . . God! Bastard. I trusted you."

"It was highly illegal. I punished Muggles with magic. But it won't trace back to me."

"So it will trace to me? Fuck you, Malfoy!"

You look like I've hit you and you sound so sad and hurt as you say, "Of course not. I wouldn't do that. Our powers combined don't bear either of our signatures. It won't trace to anyone I wouldn't break my promise but I couldn't let them walk away. What kind of a," you pause and I can tell you're debating the use of lover or boyfriend but instead you say, "of a friend would let them go unscathed? If that bastard had kept his hands to himself they would have all been forgiven. But he damned them the moment he laid his hand on you again. And when he touched you all of them felt it."

"What did you do to them?" I ask, feeling exhausted, even as I forgive you.

"Every hurt you ever felt because of them, every pain that you inflicted upon yourself because of them is now being rehashed by their minds. They will have to relive it over and over. It's all they'll ever experience now. And they cannot explain it to anyone. They'll never be able to tell a soul about what they've done. Never be able to clear their consciences. They'll hear, see, feel, taste, smell their acts through your eyes until they die."

"What about that guy who hadn't done anything-"

"Yet," you interrupted, "He hadn't done anything yet. But he wanted to."

"So that makes him as bad as them?"

Totally grey you look like you're about to vomit from rage, "He paid and he got what was owed to him for that. He paid to rape you. Don't defend him. Please!" You say the word with scorn but you're shaking. "The Victorians hanged men for less. He _wanted_ to rape you so why shouldn't he suffer the same fate as the others?"

All the anger is gone from both of us and you're staring at the stoop, I think you're afraid of what I'll say. But instead I just pull you gently to me and hush you. "Okay. Shhhh. It's okay. Thank you for caring so much. It's alright now." I reach past you to knock on the door. "We're going to go inside and have some tea and calm down."

"Whose house is this?" you ask studying the façade.

"Mine."

"Then why are we knocking?" you lean back. "And why are the upstairs lights on?"

"Because," the door swings open and the man stands there, "Remus Lupin lives here."

"Yes, I do," confirms Remus. He looks between us and at our linked fingers, the way our hips touch, our tired, scared, upset expressions. "Harry, Malfoy, hello."

"May we come in?"

"Of course," he moves backwards, unblocking the entrance, "It's your home."

Breathing deeply I agree, "Yes, yes it is." I smile wanly at Remus and lead you into the sitting room. The fire is burning warmly, heating everything, and (though it's daylight outside) adding a homely glow to the place. I conjure a tea set with three cups and biscuits. I pour tea and push you onto the couch with a gentle hand. "Thank you for protecting me," I say finally as I hand you a cup and feel ashamed that I don't know how you take your tea. After all, you've been stalking me for so long, I should at least know something like this. And that seems odd, that I should feel I owe you something for irritatingly following me. But I do. I want to know stuff like this, which side of the bed you prefer, if you use toothpaste or potion, your favourite fucking book. You add a splash of milk but no sugar and I store the information. Handing one to Remus (liberal milk, no sugar) I say, "Thank you for having us."

With a nod towards you he says, "Is he alright?"

"I'm fine," you reply with an edge and as I come to sit next to you the tone softens, "Am I being dumped?"

"No," I shake my head, "you're mental but you meant well. It's okay. I know you're trying your hardest."

Watching the exchange Remus asks, "Are you in trouble?"

"We visited my family. I told them where to get off."

Remus pumped his fist in the air, "Yes! That's great. I'm so pleased. . . what did Malfoy do wrong?" And the sight of him making a fist seems odd as he has never been violent but I know he cares and maybe it's a relief to him. And I wonder how much time he's spent worrying about me.

"Nothing wrong, just dangerous. He placed an untraceable on my uncle to make him relive the not fun parts of my childhood."

You're studying him, trying to figure out if he knows how "not fun" it was. Do you honestly think I ever told anyone? Or that anyone watches me as closely as you? Remus knew my rules and actually followed them. "Well, if they can't trace it I don't see a problem. Thank you, Malfoy."

"You're welcome," you say softly. And I can tell from you're tone you're still trying to read him.

"How long will it take for it to run its course?" asked Remus obviously interested in the mechanics.

"Until he stops breathing," I can tell you're bracing yourself for him to be angry.

But he takes it in his stride and only blinks, "And how long will that take?"

"Well," you think for a moment, still not sure about him, "don't most Muggles live into their eighties with their form of medicine? From his weight, and state of his body, even with their mediMuggles -or whatever- I'd say he'll be seventy-seven or so."

"Can it be removed?" Remus was trying to hide a malicious smile. But you're too nervous to notice.

"If Harry desired it to be lifted. But the stress of removal would knock two decades off of Dursley's life expectancy."

"Wonderful," said Remus. And I shut my eyes, wondering if those men truly deserve this. I could have run away when I was younger, could have told Dumbledore, he would have let me stay at Hogwarts over the summers or sent someone back there with me. And Remus suddenly speaks softly saying, "If what he's put you through was minor than the punishment will only tax him so much, he'll feel the guilt he should have always felt. If it was more severe, enough for his pain to be constant, then you have nothing for which to feel badly."

I don't open my eyes. I try to focus on whether it will trace to us. "The problem is that if they do any detective work at all they'll learn that things have been strained within Gryffindor because of our getting together. Even if it doesn't have your signature they'll suspect you."

"The curse reads like a magical malady not a spell. The ministry will think it's some weird epidemic and when they see that neither of us have it they will look elsewhere for a source. And even if they suspected us we have Severus for an alibi."

"Wait," Remus interrupted, "epidemic and Severus?"

"The curse effected everyone who added to my problems. Severus is his godfather." I shrug not wanting to explain this and still worrying about the consequences. I can't look at you or him so I just keep my eyes shut, waiting for everything to fall apart, I'm almost expecting Ministry officials to swarm.

"How many would that be?" Remus sounds ill.

"Maybe nine all together." Then I redirect us to the important point, "There is a record of us Apparating. It won't list a destination but it will show we weren't there."

"We went Christmas shopping in London and came here," you explain quickly.

"Before of after we spent all day with your father and godfather?"

Exasperated you say, "You're the Savior of Wizarding Kind, no one will look into this if you just stay by me and act shocked! We're safe. Relax."

"Relax?" I almost scream.

"You would have done the same for me," you say softly. You reach out and touch my fingers and my eyes fly open. My hand that isn't holding my tea cup is tightly holding my other wrist. My fingers are curled over your bracelet in a desperate attempt to hold onto some kind of control. I can't argue with your words, of course I would have skinned them alive and set them on slow burning fire with a torture spell I read about while training if they'd touched you. Stroking my fingers you say, "The sphinx is dead, Harry, we're going to live forever. This will never touch on your life again. That part is done. They are never going to hurt you again."

I nod and finally let the tension bleed out of my body.


	10. 10

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: It takes time to heal stuff.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

Thanks for all the feedback!

Thank you, Cassy, for the beta read!

* * *

You look at me and nod. I can see the stress melt out of you, and I'm amazed. I never thought words from my mouth would comfort or assure you. But before I can comment on the change in attitude you lean slowly in and kiss me. I move into the kiss, careful not to knock the cup of tea you're still holding, and I think about how cups of tea and slow kisses like this are so domestic and I want to grow old with you and drink tea and hold your face so I move my hand to cup your cheek. And as we pull back you guzzle your tea down and say, "I needed that," and I'm not sure if you mean the drink or the snog so I just smile. You lean forward to put the empty cup down on the table. Then you move to rest against me and I look up to see the werewolf watching us.

I can't figure him out. Does he know about your family? When you move your arm to hold my hand your sleeve rides up and he looks at your bare skin. For a moment I'm positive he knew from the shock on his face. But then I realize that he's staring at the bracelet and not the unmarred flesh and he says, "Malfoy, isn't that you're coming of age bracelet?"

Flinching I curse him silently as I grit out, "Yes."

"You're never supposed to take that off."

"I know."

"What would your father say?"

Feeling my skin flush I reply icily, "Contrary to popular belief my father does not dictate all of my actions."

"Draco?" you ask softly.

Rolling my eyes I turn to you and explain, "It's given to purebloods on the eve on their seventeenth birthday. I didn't think you would wear it if you knew about it's blood status. Each one is designed for the person who it's given to so that it fits them perfectly both for their powers and their minds. It's not even as though it actually served a purpose: it only wards off light magics. I should have told you but I wanted to give you that extra safety." You're gonna be pissed. You won't react well to the idea of unwittingly wearing a symbol of all things snobbery. "It's just a good luck charm."

"You aren't supposed to take it off?"

"It's supposed to be on the wrist of its owner until they die. It's an honor that is not to be removed. Most purebloods are buried wearing them. They're designed not to come off. It took me twenty minutes to charm it open while you were sleeping earlier."

Expecting a barrage of angry words I drink my tea. It offers no comfort. And I wait in the silence for your anger but instead you say, "You're amazing." There's no scorn and I look to your face. "Thank you." You smile, "I can't believe you went in there totally unprotected but thank you." You pull the bracelet off your wrist and laugh, "Now put this on before we forget and your father sees it because, while he doesn't make your choices he can make your life hell if he wants to." You slide it back into place on my arm and ask, "Seal it?"

"Finite Incantatem," I mutter and you smile.

"I walked around with a blood symbol on my arm for hours? I'm dating a mental snob." And you laugh and so do I because the most concrete proof that I'm not a snob is now residing on my wrist. No "good pureblood" would ever let their half-blood lover wear their coming of age bracelet.

My watch face reads, "This isn't a time for social visits: get to your alibi." And I sigh, "We have to go. I'm sorry, we need to get back to the castle."

You nod and say, "Remus, sorry we couldn't stay longer. Thanks for having us at all, I mean without notice."

"You're always welcome in your own home," The man says earnestly. He studies Harry for a moment and then says, "Your scar is gone."

I feel a sudden surge of respect towards him. Anyone who sits with you for a half hour without studying your face long enough to notice that its gone must really be on your side, because who doesn't look at your scar first and your face second? "Draco's a healer." I wish you'd stop putting that about.

"I've never met anyone who could do that," says the man with slight awe.

"He taught me; I can do it too. I could do your scars, if you'd like?" You sound like a kid with a toy that needs to be shared.

He just shakes his head, "They'll be replaced by the next moon." He speaks dismissively but there's an off note about the statement. You just nod silently.

We stand and walk to the door and I say, "Thank you, Lupin, you've been more than kind. If the Ministry comes please tell them. . . tell them we came to tell you that we're together?"

"Sure," he says with a nod, "And I think it's time you started calling me Remus."

"Well then it's Draco. And thank you."

You take my hand and we Apparate back to Hogwarts' gates. Neither of us release the other's hold as we walk to my father's house and up to the door. I open it without knocking and call, "I'm home, Harry's with me. We've had a fruitless day of shopping and went to visit Remus Lupin." Uncle Rus comes into the hall and watches us but I don't look at him. I'm still so angry at him for what he did to you. One thinks that he can go to his godfather for help, but what he did was not in anyway helpful. Without acknowledging him I say, "Want to see my room? Father conjured it here directly from the mansion, all my cool stuff is in it." You laugh but your fingers are cutting off my circulation and you're so careful to keep your eyes fixed on the stairs. "Come on, it's on the first floor." I pull you away by the hand and lead you up the staircase.

Behind my shut door I say, "Ignore him. I'm sorry, I just went to him for help, I didn't sic him on you, didn't mean to at least."

"I know," you nod, "and I don't think he was attacking me, I think I was being examined." You shudder. "I feel queasy though, I hate that he knows."

"What does he know?" I ask softly, I have no idea what happened in that room after I left other than that he saw your scars.

"He saw my arms. Thinks I'm a crazy cutter with a mean family. . . it's not that far off from the truth."

You laugh but you sound tired. I look around the room, turn out the light, and draw the curtains with a few flicks of my wand. "Come here," I say and lead you to my bed. I lie down and pull you next to me. We stare up at the ceiling and I say, "Cool, right?" On the black ceiling glowing stars move like the constellations the they represent. The swirls move silver against the darkness and I say, "I used to watch them for hours."

"Muggle kids have this too, but they're made of glow in the dark plastic."

"What's plastic?" I ask not understanding.

Your eyes widen in surprise and you say, "No way. Wizards don't use plastic?" I shake my head feeling foolish. "What do they make the soles of trainers with? What do they make spectacles from?"

"Cork and leather and magic, or rubber. We have rubber, we let the Muggles in one that one. And glasses are made from glass and wire," I reply.

"Huh," you don't sound scornful. "I think rubber is like plastic only soft." You remove your glasses and hand them to me. "See the frames and the lens? What are they made of?"

I tap the lens, they're lighter, make a duller noise, and don't feel like glass. The frames look like black glass, but they're too thin and light, "Plastic?" I guess. "So what's it do? What's it made of? How does it 'glow-in-the-dark'?"

"Um," you smile, "It's quite strong but it's pliable so it doesn't break. And it doesn't shatter like glass. It's a polymer, but I don't really know what it's made of, I was eleven when I stopped taking Muggle science classes. I think it's like rubber," you repeat and then say, "You can make it glow by. . . I think it's a paint they put on it, or a spray. It sucks in the energy from light, the energy makes electrons move, and then when the electrons move back to their starting position they release the energy as a glow." You look at me and say, "Do you know what electrons are?" I shake my head expecting you to laugh at me. You laugh but then shake your head, "I don't really either." You take your glasses from me and look back at the stars. "They're great." You glance at the bed we're on and say, "I thought you said you didn't read Muggle books."

I look at the bed sheets. I've had them since I was little and I laugh, "Postman Pat isn't a Muggle."

"He's a postman."

"He's a squib. Don't you think his cat Jess is too big and clever to be a cat?"

"He's half kneazle?" you sigh, "That does put a different spin on it."

I smile and say, "Feeling a bit better?"

"Thank you."

"For what?" I ask gently taking your hand in mine.

"For taking me into your dark room, and lying me down on your bed, and making it not scary."

Not expecting that reply I say, "Harry, beds in dark rooms shouldn't be scary."

"I know, but they are and instead of being frightened I'm trying to explain plastic and it's great." You lean forward as if to kiss me but I lean back slightly and you say, "What?"

"Beds in dark rooms can be just that. We don't need to do anything at all. We can just lie here." I want to kiss you, I want to sink into your mouth and touch your hair and drown in the act but I need to say this, you need to know.

"But, I mean." You look confused and hurt, "After everything today-"

"It didn't change anything. You're still the most beautiful man on Earth. I still love you. But we don't need to kiss if you don't want to."

Your face goes dark and I don't know how I've offended you until you say, "So you want to skip right to the fucking?"

"No," I say firmly, "We don't need to have sex either. We don't need to do anything you're uncomfortable with. That's what I'm saying. No matter what, I want to be your friend. I don't ever want you to think you owe me for that, or think that I expect something. We don't need to kiss, or touch, or have sex if you don't want. I'll still be your friend, hell if you want, I'll still be your boyfriend. Physical presence has nothing to do with this relationship. You're beautiful and sexy but that's not why I want to be with you. I didn't bring you up here to seduce you. I brought you up here to bring you away from Uncle Rus and to show you my stars. I love kissing you, and holding your hands, and if at some point you want to have sex I can't wait to feel you inside of me, but I like having you trust me more." I run a hand over my face and you pull my hand away and kiss me slowly. You release your grip on my wrist so that you can stroke my sides and you pull me onto of you and deepen the kiss.

It all feels too serious, and the room is dark and I don't want you to start thinking about the day so I tickle your ribs. You're laughing and flipping our position so that I'm under you before even breaking for a breath. The fingers on my flesh are merciless and I laugh into your neck before kissing the soft flesh to distract you, and your hands still. I strike at the weakness and tickle your arms. You pin them to my sides and say, "You're amazing."

"I know," I agree. That makes you laugh more. You laugh like a kid.

"You make it fun."

"It?" I ask, thinking I understand but wanting to make sure.

"Being with someone. I mean, I know it's supposed to be fun but I never really believed it. Hermione and Ron fight and make moon eyes at each other. And Mr. And Mrs. Weasley always seem happy and comfortable but not fun really. And really, they're the only people in love that I see. But you make this so much fun. I feel like I'm on a really good roller coaster: I'm safe but I don't know what's coming and it's so exciting."

"And what about when the coaster stops?" I ask, I've been on one of those in Cornwall with Severus.

"It won't," you sound so sure.

And there's so much more I need to say but a knock on the door pulls me away and I look at you and you nod so I say, "Come in," And Severus is standing in the door looking at us.

I hate the way he glances at you, I think he's trying to see scars or something but he says, "The Minister for Magic is downstairs." I hadn't been expecting him, I'd been expecting a Minister not the Minister. "Are you in trouble?"

The flash over your face is momentary and Uncle Rus didn't notice it. I can see that you understand everything: I didn't tell them where we were going, they were our all purpose alibi. And you lie so easily, "No, all we did was bunk off of Herbology, and to the best of my knowledge the Ministry doesn't get involved in that."


	11. Chapter 11

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello

Part:11/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Severus finds out.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

**NOTE: I cannot believe I'm finally back to this story. I'm posting two to make up for the three year gap you've gone through. I have up through chapter seventeen written and I plan to publish a few over the next few weeks. I want to complete this story within a few months. If you're a returning reader, I'm sorry for the wait. If you're new here have fun.**

* * *

Kingsley is standing in the entrance hall awkwardly. I feel my shields slip up and your hand is in mine grounding me. I let go of you to hug him. Right now I have to be the Harry Potter he likes. "Kingsley, it's so good to see you." He hugs me back and holds on slightly too long and I know that he knows and is concerned. I hope you can lie now; I know you said you aren't good at it but right now I need you to be. And failing that stay silent. "I haven't seen you ages, Minister." The last word is teasing. I had been present at the Ministry the day he took office.

"Harry, I come with some sad news. I need a word alone." Snape and your father leave and he looks at you and says, "Mr. Malfoy?"

"It's okay," I say, "Draco can be here."

"Harry, something's happened at your house and to some of your uncle's friends."

"Right." I take your hand again and squeeze gently.

"They've lost the ability to speak; they don't even seem to be aware of what's going on around them."

"Right."

"I hate to ask you this, but where were you today?"

"Draco and I went Christmas shopping, it was pointless though: we didn't buy anything. Then we went over to Remus to have a cup of tea."

"How is he?"

"Depressed, as always. But he seemed quite pleased that we'd come."

"You had a falling out with Ron Weasley this morning."

"He found out that Draco and I are seeing each other he told me I needed to choose between him and Draco. It was rather distressing. Draco and I decided to bunk off Herbology."

"Were you at your house today?"

"What do you think, Kingsley?"

"I think you went, for some reason against your will, and they got what they deserved. I know that there was a huge magical phenomenon on that street, at ten fifty-six this morning; the air reeks of lightening and salt. What I need to know is what that phenomenon was, what the fall out will be, and whether this can be traced to you."

"Nothing would have happened if he hadn't tried to touch me. He sent for me and I didn't know what was going to happen so I took precautions. It was a protection spell. But it can't be traced because I wove Draco's power with mine. It doesn't have a signature. It's not going to wear off and they won't regain the ability to speak. Moreover it wasn't visibly cast it was designed under my skin, the physical contact cast it not a spoken spell."

I pray that you don't speak up now. Kingsley will accept me protecting myself he will not accept you booby trapping me. Even if he's revolted by my actions he will accept them. Not only because he's vaguely aware of my past and likes me but because he, like most people, fears me. He doesn't fear you nor does he like you. We worked together before the last battle, like a unit and he respected you but didn't warm to you. And if you speak up now, say that you cast the protection spell he will think that it was something else and I'm covering for you.

Kingsley looks between us and says, "So it was an attack from an unknown party against your family. Probably a Death Eater that is as of yet not apprehended. I'm very sorry about your family, Mr. Potter."

"Thank you, Minister, that's very kind of you."

"Of course, Harry, Mr. Malfoy." He nods and is about to leave when he suddenly says, "Harry, where's your scar?"

"Gone, Draco got rid of it for me."

Kingsley turns his gaze on you and said, "Excellent, I didn't think anyone could do that."

You nod silently and now he really does leave. And once the door is shut you say, "How much does he know?"

"Not much. He knows they weren't very nice to me. He knows about as much as Remus which isn't much. I'm sure he has no idea why those men are suffering, why it's not just my family. But he knows there's more to it than I ever said so he isn't going to ask about the connection. I think he doesn't want to know. He doesn't know that they systematically raped and abused me for seven years while paying my uncle for the pleasure. And I'd like to keep it that way." I hear a slight gasp and turn to see Snape standing wide eyed. He'd come in silently, had stood in the shadows, probably wanting to know why Kingsley had come and thought it was better to spy than ask. "Typical, just bloody typical."

You pull me by the hand and shoot him a glance maybe you even mouth something but I don't see it. You lead me back up stairs and into your room and say. "It doesn't matter. He doesn't matter."

"He does to you."

"Just because I love him doesn't mean his opinions matter. And while I love him I'm not blind to the way he's treated you."

"Yes, but how long can this last with me actively disliking your godfather?"

"It's not your job to make the effort. Are you okay?"

"I would be a lot better if he never breathed a word of it to anyone."

You wipe a hand over your eyes and say, "I'll deal with him. Why don't you make yourself comfortable, look around, whatever. I'll be back in a little while. I'll deal with this."

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"It's all going to be alright." You reach out and touch my face gently. "I'll make it be alright."

"No, I mean thank you for everything."

"Don't worry about that." You let go of me and say, "I'll be back soon."

You leave and I don't know exactly what to do. You said I can look around but it feels awkward. I crouch by your book shelf and start looking through the titles. It's clear that it's your childhood room because the books are all aimed at children. I see one called, "The Mysterious Happening on Bainbridge Road" that actually looks quite interesting. I start reading the back and it sounds good: a young wizard apparently killed by a muggle except that things weren't adding up.

Lying down on the bed I began to read, trying to calm myself down. You're handling it. I keep telling myself that over and over. But he knows, Draco, Severus Fucking Snape knows and I feel cold thinking about it. I curl up on my side still vaguely reading, but it's all just washing over me. The bed moves slightly and I turn over to see a very sleek grey cat climbing over the sheets. "Hey," I say softly. A cat? I really would not have expected that. I know that you have the Eurasian Eagle Owl but a cat? Cats just seem too gentle. But you're gentle with me. The cat settles in the middle of my chest and promptly falls asleep. It purrs in its sleep and the vibrations reverberate through my sternum and that, more than anything calms me down.

I feel hungry, nauseous, and shaky all at once. Two cups of tea and some toast can't really get a person through the most emotionally charged day of one's life. And as ridiculous as it sounds I could eat a hippogriff. I lie there with your cat on my chest and feel very safe for the first time in years.


	12. 12

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello

Part:12/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Draco talks to Severus.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

* * *

I leave you inside my room and hope that you'll calm down. Maybe you can sleep a bit because even though you slept earlier it wasn't very restive. Downstairs I see Severus staring out the window. "You aren't allowed to be upset."

"What?" He turns from the window and looks genuinely disturbed.

"You aren't allowed to be upset. You're not allowed to say anything. You aren't allowed to tell anyone. You aren't allowed to do anything. There is nothing you are allowed to do."

"Dragon, I-"

"No, you don't get to speak right now. You're still playing at espionage, sneaking into rooms? I understand that it's ingrained in you but if you wanted to know what happened this morning you should have asked. I would have lied, told you we went shopping but that is hardly the point. I asked you to be our alibi, you knew we were doing something and you didn't ask beforehand. So it wasn't that you were uncomfortable with our actions or protecting us: Kingsley was leaving. You were just being nosy. So now you know and now that you've found out you can go fuck yourself and keep your mouth shut."

"Draco!"

"No. You also aren't allowed to be offended or to tell me to be quiet. Right now I'm too disgusted to care about anything you want to say except, 'Yes, Dragon, I won't say anything to anyone. I won't even speak to your father.'"

"I won't say anything to anyone not even your father."

"Good. I'm sorry to say this but I can't even look at you. I'm going upstairs." I start to head back up the stairs.

"You knew; you saw."

"Anyone without their heads up their arses could have seen it if they were looking. It's not my fault that you can't see anything but his father when you look at him… I have never seen you as either a spy or as a professor but today I can't see you as being anything but those things because you sure as hell aren't my uncle Rus."

"I'm sorry."

"You should be and not because of how I feel but because of what you've done." I head back upstairs and open my door to see you with Maphaltha on your chest and instantly change my demeanor. "Ah, you've met Maphaltha."

"I didn't know you had a cat."

"You can only have an owl or a cat or a frog. Mercury seemed more useful. Besides, cats make you look softer. But it was a bit of a wrench to leave her when I came. She was only a year old when we came to school." I sit down next to you but you don't look away from her.

"Poor… Mathaltha?"

"Maphaltha," I correct gently and then after a pause ask, "Are you okay?"

"She's fine," You give a dry laugh.

"He's not going to say anything to anyone." You turn and look at me and I know it's not good enough. "Blaise is really good with memory charms; he can wipe anything without even knowing what it is he just needs a time frame."

You look up at the ceiling, "That's unthinkable."

"Not at all, I'm thinking it right now." You laugh again and it almost sounds like you're throat is lined with paper. "It's a little questionable, sure, but-"

"We can't fuck with his memory just because he found out about me."

"He was spying."

"Draco, you've heard the expression 'two wrongs don't make a right' right?"

"Yes."

"And that 'an eye for an eye leaves everyone blind'?"

"I'm pretty sure that in this case we'd be left with sight."

"Just lie here with me. Okay?" You reach for my hand and drag me down.

"Are we talking or is this silent lying?"

"Lying by omission?" You joke and then sober, "You can talk; I don't mind. I might not be the best conversationalist today."

"Then just listen, interrupt if you like. The Evening Prophet will have you all over the front page, you're in a fight with Ron and Hermione, we will be at separate tables in the dining hall, and Severus will be there."

"Are you trying to make me feel worse? I was thinking how hungry I was." Your voice is jovial but your grip is too tight.

"Or we get out for the weekend. Get McGonagall and Severus to sign a leave sheet for each of us, get a hamper from the kitchen house elves, and we go and stay with Remus until Monday morning… maybe longer, we're done with class until after Christmas… when was the full moon?"

"Nine days ago."

"It won't solve anything it's just a reprieve."

"A stay of execution?"

"What's that?" I wonder if you dislike that I don't understand your references, if you see it as a lacking on my part.

"Some countries have the death penalty for crimes. The court sentences you to death. But sometimes they'll find new information and they'll put off the execution for a while."

Well that's… disturbing. It doesn't make much sense. Even the Death Eaters were imprisoned, not killed. "Does England? I mean, the Muggles, do they have that?"

"I don't think it'd any worse than a dementor's kiss. But, no, England doesn't have it. I've seen it in American police shows."

"Plays?"

"No, shows on telly."

"Telly?" Sometimes it feels like a different language.

"A television it's this thing that has sort of plays on it… you'd like it. It's bad if you watch too much, I mean lots of people don't read they just watch TV."

"TV?" I repeat, unsure if we've moved to another subject.

"Television, TV, telly, idiot-box, the box, there are a lot of names. It's like a screen with moving pictures and sound. You'd like it."

"So does it make the stories? Do you programme it?"

"No, people make the shows, it's a whole business. And then it gets beamed… or sent… or something to your TV and you can choose between channels all of which have different shows."

"But how does it work? How does it beam?"

"I don't know."

"But you had one?" I ask and you sort of scrunch your face and I wonder if I've said something wrong.

"No, Dudley had a couple… it's a bit like Fizzing Whizbees. You don't really question how they make you float, it just makes sense that they do. You take it for granted."

"Is it weird for you that you can walk between two worlds?"

You remain silent for a while and you look back at the ceiling, as though my stars will answer for you. Finally you say, "I don't feel like I fit in either."

"I'm sorry," I say and I don't know if you'll believe it.

But you give me a tight smile and say, "I'm going to buy you a TV for Christmas."

"We could go actual Christmas shopping."

"I don't want to go to Diagon Alley this weekend not after everyone gets their copy of the Prophet."

"We can explore the Muggle London… it could be fun or at least distracting."

"Draco, you don't like Muggles and you must have stuff to do."

"I don't care about 'stuff' do you want to get out of here?"

"Yes please, but I mean, Draco-"

"Look, at some point we all need someone to help us and cover for us. And someday I'm going to need you to put me first. So this weekend we go to stay at Remus' and you show me London."

"We have to get off the bed if we want to do this."

"That is a drawback." I nod unsure of whether or not you're saying no.

"Okay, okay." You take a deep breath and then call out, "Dobby!"

The house elf suddenly appears at the end of the bed. "Harry Potter and Master Draco! Hello, Dobby is pleased to see you both together. What can Dobby do to be of help?" Dobby has always been so kind to me although he was terrified of my mother and frightened of my father's anger when he got careless with his affections. If Dobby was overly familiar with me in front of anyone my father punished him to remind him that if my mother saw it would be worse.

"I need your help getting two leave permission slips and my invisibility cloak. We're going to stay with Remus. Would you do that for me, please?"

"Of course, Harry Potter. And, Harry Potter, Dobby would like to say how sorry he is to hear about your family. Though they were horrible people."

"Thank you, Dobby."

"Dobby will be back soon." He disappeared.

"Good old Dobby. He was always kind." I realize that I'm repeating my internal monologue out loud and it's such a relief to have you next to me, to be able to say all these things. "He always had good bedtime stories. And he could darn anything so well my mother never saw the hole which really saved my arse several times." You lie next to me not laughing and I ask, "You okay?"

"Maphaltha is fine."

"That was funnier the first time."

"I'm not okay… Do you have floo powder?"

"Yeah it's on the mantle… you could floo into your common room but you don't know who'll be there."

"No, I just need to call Remus, ask if it would be alright if we came." You don't move to get off the bed, you just run your free hand through your hair repetitively and after a few more minutes you say, "When I've called Remus, and Dobby brings back the cloak and the forms, can we have sex? Or is this a no sex zone? Last night was amazing, and you made me feel so good, and I want to feel good like that again."

I don't know exactly what to say but Dobby saves me by reappearing. He brings the forms, already signed, a few changes of clothes, the cloak, and a plate with cake on it. "Harry Potter is there anything else Dobby can do?"

You look lost and look around, again like my room will answer you. "We need a hamper. Right?" You turn to me.

"Right, three days worth of food for three people, we don't want to impose of Remus."

"Yes, Master Draco, Dobby will be back in a few minutes."

"Thank you, Dobby, very much." He disappeared and I said, "We should maybe call Kingsley as well. Let him know that we're leaving."

"Good idea." You finally let go of my hand and move Maphaltha off of you. "I'll do it." You say before taking a large bit of fruit cake and moving to the fire. You take the tin off the mantel place and throw a pinch into the flames.

I don't listen to your conversations; I don't feel comfortable listening in on it. I pick up a book on my bed that you must have been reading. Good book, the maid did it you know. Everyone thought she was a squib but it turns out she's actually very powerful and is secretly his cousin and the next in line to inherit the family fortune. Dobby comes back with food and says, "Master Draco, I hope all is well."

"It will be fine. But it's not right now." And Dobby climbs on the bed and puts an arm around my shoulder. "Thank you." I lean into him slightly. I can't lean into you right now, it wouldn't be fair.

You turn back from the fire and see us in the half embrace and your eyes widen slightly. "Remus said we can go anytime we like… I didn't think you two were very close."

"Dobby raised me."

"But you're mean to each other."

"The Mistress did not like that Dobby and Master Draco were friends." Dobby strokes my shoulder a few times. "Dobby should be going, sirs. It was very nice to see you both."

"Thanks for everything, Dobby," I say and he nods, bows deeply, and disappears. "Dear Dobby." You start to strip and I say, "Harry, there's Postman Pat sheets on my bed." It's all the explanation I need and you nod understandingly.

"Right, but can we just get naked and get into bed. No sex, just sleeping skin to skin? I'm exhausted and stressed out."

I pull my robes open and say, "That sounds really good."

As you strip you look me over you say, "Do you have muggle clothes? Jeans or anything?"

"No, but I'm good at transfiguration. You can help me make it look right." You come to me naked and unashamed, almost unaware of yourself. The puppy and dragon are actually already asleep on your abdomen in a pile. I pull off my shoes, trousers, and pants as you pull the duvet back. I climb in next to you and pull the covers over us and you move nearer. Your stomach vibrates steadily. "Is your tattoo snoring?"

"The dog does. The dragon kicks it a lot. Will the puppy grow up?"

"Only if you will it too, otherwise it's just a puppy." I stroke your shoulder and feel you flaccid against my thigh and I ask, "Does it hurt?"

"No, it feels good, feels comforting… are you mad at me for lying to Kingsley?"

"He wouldn't have believed anything else. Get some sleep."

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

"I like being here with you. I like having you against me like this. I like being like this with you." You go quiet and I think that you expect a response but then you say, "It's been a hard time, and I'm sorry that I'm dragging you into this. And it's been a horrific twenty-four hours. But I'm glad you're with me here."

"Harry, you've had a hard time since you were a year old. And as for dragging me into it… I was stalking you for a long time so you didn't drag me into anything because I was a pretty observant stalker."

"You were a good stalker."

"Meaning I was efficient or meaning-"

You laugh gently and interrupt me, "I resented the hell out of you… but I needed you."

"You still need me?"

"Not that way. I don't need to you to watch me to remind me that I'm still living. I don't need you to shadow me or know my every movement. But I want you here with me. I still need you to see me as me."

It is warm and quiet and a man and woman are laughing close by. The woman breaks off with a snort and says, "James, we'll wake him." Her voice is happy and confidential.

The man moves into my eye line and smiles, "He's already awake." He scoops me up, I'm tiny in his arms, and he says, "Who did Mummy and Daddy wake? Who was good and quiet? You were, Harry."

I realize that this is a dream, your dream, and that these are your parents. Your father holds me close and says, "Let's see about a bottle."

"Oh, one for us too!" says your mother, with laughter in her voice.

"Red or white?" asks your father.

"Red, it will go with the stakes I should already be cooking."

"Forget stakes, we'll warm up those sausages and have crisps." He sets about warming a bottle, pours two glasses wine, and opens the larder all one handed. A noise came from outside and your father tenses. "What was that?"

I wake up suddenly and you say softly, "Sorry about that."

"You get two wizards who are both skilled in Occlumens and Legilimens sleeping skin to skin and there is going to be some slips. It was a nice dream."

You shake your head. "Not a dream." You take a deep breath and say, "The dementors they take all that's good… I always hear the end when they're near."

"The end?"

"The noise in the yard… it's Voldemort. When the dementors are near I hear that but I sort of pushed at it and fell into the rest of it… I don't know if it's real or if I made it up. I like to think it's real. I like to think they were talking about what to have for tea and laughing before... well, just before, I guess."

"They were nice and happy."

"Yeah, yeah, I like to think so."

"Do you have anything of theirs?"

"My dad's cloak, a map of the school that he made with his friends, and a photo album."

"No other memories?"

"No… I saw something in a Pensieve once that I shouldn't have; wished I hadn't."

"What do you mean?"

"I wasn't meant to see it and I found out that my dad was a bully when he was a kid. He was a mean bully… every bit the arrogant prick Snape claims he was."

"I'm sorry."

"Teenage boys can be prats, we mostly grow out of it. I'm sure he did… or would have, you know? He was only twenty so maybe he hadn't yet… but I don't think Mum would have married him if he was like that."

"Have I grown out of it?"

"Nope, you're a dick that's why I'm naked in your bed and talking openly about my parents." You laugh and the noise is actually relaxed and it's amazing but I feel like tons of pressure have been removed from us both.

"We should get up and go to Remus'; we'll have tea."


	13. 13

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part:13/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Severus eavesdrops.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

* * *

Maybe it's not that I hate Draco for being right. What it is, is that I hate when Draco needs to point out that I'm wrong. He should not have to do that. He's a child. Just like Harry Potter is a child. That is where my mind goes everything I try to walk around the issue. Harry Potter is a child. A child who was put in my care. And I have most certainly failed him.

In the kitchen I make coffee. I drink four cups without pause trying to think things through. It doesn't help. Lucius comes in and sits down across from me. "Why are you drinking this much coffee?"

"I've upset Dragon and Mr. Potter."

"How?"

"I'm not allowed to tell you."

"What?"

"I heard something I shouldn't have. I had no right to hear what I did."

"What did you hear?"

"I can't tell you. It was none of my business."

"I'm his father."

"Lucius, it's none of your business either."

"But, Severus-"

"No, Lucius, no. I will not tell you nor will you pry. All you need to know is that I feel guilty."

"So what are you going to do?"

"Drink coffee… pace. I'll figure it out."

During my seventh cup of coffee Dobby appears at my side and says, "Professor Snape, sir, Dobby would like you to please sign this, sir."

He hands me a permission slip with Draco's name filled in requesting to be out of the Castle for the weekend. "Where are they going?"

"Remus Lupin's, sir. Professor McGonagall has signed Harry Potter's. Dobby thinks Harry Potter is very upset about his family, sir."

"Yes, I'm sure." I sign it and pass it back. "You can give that to Draco."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, thank you, Dobby." He disappears and I think maybe a weekend away would be a good thing.

That's when I start pacing. It's not even really pacing, it's lapping. I lap the hallways. The problem with been a spy for over sixteen years is that it becomes second nature. Earwigging is so easy to me that I don't think about it, not even after today's horrors. So I hear a gasp and a, "Sorry about that," and I pause. I listen because, as much as I know I should move away, I can't stop myself. I listen to it all and it cements my plan, a plan I wasn't even formulating, but now I know what to do.

Dragon says that they should go and I move away from the door and then Harry says, "I'm glad you saw that. There are so many other things you could have seen."

"I wouldn't care if I saw them."

"No, not the men." The words make me wince. "I… sometimes I dream that the war is still on. And I wake up thinking about whether or not Neville knows the right counter-curse and I get scared and worried and it might take me an hour to remember that it's over so it doesn't matter if he does or not. I dream about that last battle a lot."

"I was there."

"I ripped him limb from limb. I destroyed the last piece of his soul with nothing but brutality fueled by fear and a Muggle lighter and gasoline."

"I was there," Dragon repeats but he doesn't sound like he wants Harry to stop. It's more like he's supporting Harry by reminding him he's next to him.

"I had already taken lives before that with a curse claimed to be unforgivable… but people forgive so many things when they've decided you're in the right. I'm seventeen and I've killed eight people."

"Harry-"

"That wasn't bad enough, no, I ended up killing him without magic: kneeling on his sternum pulling him apart. I tore his arms out of his sockets because it wasn't enough to destroy the pieces of the soul he took away from himself. I had to destroy the vessel without magic. And I understand that it had to be me. I understand the prophecy and I understand that it was my blood in his veins. So it was my hands that had to spill it. But I am still disgusted. I know he deserved it; I know everything he did; I still wish it hadn't been me… And sometimes, when I wake up from that dream, I'm glad my parents are dead."

"Harry-"

"I don't think you could watch your child do that and still think of them as your child. And what if they saw it and were as disgusted as me? I have a dream where they're drinking coffee and my mother looks around and then says very softly, 'Are you as afraid of him as I am?' Or, worse, what if they thought I'd done the right thing? What if they thought it was forgivable. It's not forgivable; it's somehow acceptable but it's still not forgivable."

There is a long pause and then, "I won't pretend I understand what you're feeling, but for what it's worth… You did what you needed to. The Order and the Ministry told you that you had to do it. They trained you and pushed you and if anything is unforgivable it is that: they made you a weapon. And I think that parents, any good parents, would be angry on your behalf, would not like the hero worshipping, and would not have let you come back here. But you don't have to believe anything I'm saying because you were the one who was forced to kill him and I can't imagine how you feel. The one thing I can say with certainty is I'm going to be here when you have those nightmares."

I walk down to the kitchen and Lucius asks, "Are you still brooding?"

"No, now I'm plotting."


	14. 14

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part:14/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Ron and Harry talk, the boys go to Remus.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

* * *

We slip up to the Castle under my cloak and go down to the dungeons to grab your clothes. You pack quickly and say softly, "Let's go up quickly, we can just slip in and out."

I drag you up one of the back stairways and we move silently and I whisper the password. As the portrait swings open I pull you in quickly. People look up, it's just before dinner and people are around, and Neville says, "It's been doing that all week." And I silently thank him. I always appreciate the way he covers for me. He never asks questions. Upstairs I throw jeans into a bag and say, "By Monday most people will be gone for the holiday."

"Yes, true. Is Ron?" You trail off and I nod.

"He'll be gone with Hermione. They were supposed to be staying but now... Well I'm sure they'll go."

"Good."

"I don't dislike them," I say. "I honestly don't. They were my friends in a way. I liked them, they tried. I just never really trusted them. They wouldn't have liked me if I'd trusted them."

"I'm sorry to say I think you're right."

"They like me perfect."

"I'm sorry." You lean forward and kiss me lightly.

The curtain is suddenly pulled back from around Ron's bed and he stands up, red faced. "So what exactly don't you trust me with?"

"Ron," I say quickly. "You decided not to be friends so you don't get to question me."

"This is a pre-fallout question. I'm owed an answer."

"Ron, the first time you ever met me you asked me about my scar. It didn't seem odd at the time. But really it's our whole relationship."

"That's not true."

"No, it is. Think about it. Really think about it. The adventures, the filling me in on our world, trying to figure out my family, it's all about being friends with Harry Potter."

"You *_are_* Harry Potter."

"No, he isn't." You try to sound bored but I can hear the anger seething.

"You can stay out of this!" Ron replies angrily.

"Not when you talk to him like that I can't." You step forward and I put a hand over your heart.

"Just stop, Draco, he's allowed to be angry." I speak softly.

"God, how long have you been doing this? It's disgusting!"

"Ron, I'm sorry that this came up. I'm sorry that this happened. But I won't explain my situation. I won't explain my relationship with Draco. It's true, I didn't trust you, not with my true feelings. I'm sorry about that."

"So why were we friends?"

"How honest do you want me to be?"

"Totally."

"You're sure?" I repeat.

"Yes."

"Everyone I have ever truly loved is dead. I have always held myself back from caring fully about someone. And the resentment I felt over the superficial way you cared about me made me comfortable being close to you because I assumed you wouldn't die."

"And Hermione?"

"She found me fascinating. I was a subject."

"So who would you be close with? If you stopped being 'careful'?"

"Neville and Remus." I say it without hesitation.

"Well maybe you should be friends with them because we sure as hell won't ever be friends again."

"I'm sorry, Ron, I honestly am. I just assumed I would go back to the Muggle world after school and disappear. I never meant for you to know this."

"Why would you want to go back there?" His face is the very picture of disgust. "You're no one there."

"Which is exactly what he's always wanted," you chime in.

"I'm sorry, Ron, I thought I would just be able to avoid this. I would get my certification and go live in a distant country as a liaison with a government and never contact anyone save for Remus. That was the plan. It would have been kinder."

"For you or me?"

He asked for total honesty so I only consider it for a moment, "For you because I'm completely apathetic to it."

You lean in and say softly, "I don't think he wants this much honesty."

"I said I would tell him the whole truth. I owe him that much." Turning back to Ron I say, "I was protecting you in a way. Everyone I loved whom I was close to is dead: my parents, Sirius, Cho, and Cedric. By never allowing myself to truly care for you I was protecting you."

"You can't be so conceited as to think your emotions rule the world."

"There is a prophecy about me. There's definitely something that controls my destiny."

"God, you really are." Ron sneers. "For nine months of the year you live like a prince."

I wince, you grimace, and I say, "Be that as it may I still can't win."

"You won the war."

"No, I slaughtered eight people and this conversation is officially over."

"You're Harry Potter."

"No, Draco's right, I'm not. Goodbye, Ron. Happy Christmas." I grab the bag and your hand and I throw the cape over us.

We move together silently as we exit the room and in the common room I pull you over to Neville and whisper in his ear, "Thank you for before."

To the room he says, "I'm glad I'm staying here for Christmas, with my Gran so under the weather and all: she can have some peace and quiet."

We walk through the Castle to the gate holding hands and once there I say, "Number twelve Grimmauld Place, remember?"

"Don't worry, I got it."

I shut my eyes, focus, and feel the movement. The door is right in front of us and I knock. Remus opens the door, looks at the empty, and steps back to let us in. "Hey, boys."

Once the door shuts you pull off the cloak and say, "Thank you for having us, Remus."

"Of course. I was thinking we might order in for supper."

I shake my head and hold out the picnic basket, "Dobby wouldn't let us leave without a huge hamper."

"Well then, come on down to the kitchen."

In the kitchen you look around and say, "Your house is kind of creepy."

"Yeah," I agree lightly. "Poor Sirius had to grow up here."

"I like it, it may be creepy, but I like it," says Remus pulling out plates. I fetch glasses for the juice as you start to pull things out. I watch as your whole arm disappears into the modestly sized basket and you pull out an entire chicken.

By the time you're done the table is absolutely loaded with food and you say, "There's a month's worth of groceries."

I pour pumpkin juice into the three glasses. "Of course he did. Do you honestly think he wouldn't think we'd stay here for a month?"

"Harry, what exactly is going on?" asks Remus.

I shrug, "Kingsley came to the school to ask about this afternoon. It'll be in the Evening Prophet."

"What?"

"Not the truth. We were never there. But Kingsley knows. And then Severus Snape overheard the whole thing and then Ron and I got into a fight." We sit down and I start filling my plate to avoid eye contact.

"What, really? You and Ron had a fight?" his eyebrow crooks upwards.

"He doesn't like that I'm with Draco and well…" I look to you and just shake my head.

"Ron over heard Harry say that he'd never really considered Ron to be his friend as Ron only saw his celebrity. It sort of got nasty."

"That's not true is it?" Remus looks at me as he speaks but you answer for me.

"It's completely true. Ron's first impression of Harry was that Harry was the boy who'd saved the world and it never really changed. Ron idolizes Harry and enjoys the horrible situations they got into. But he doesn't really care all that much about Harry as a person." I feel Remus' stare but I keep my eyes averted. "And Harry tried to make the situation a bit better by saying that everyone he loves dies and that if he'd cared more for Ron, Ron would have died."

"That's not true?" Remus sounds even more distressed.

"His parents, Sirius, Cho, and Cedric. The people he trusted and kept close all died. It why he's distant with you. He's always cared too much about you to actually allow himself to be wholly comfortable around you. You would have died. But the good thing is that as his scar is gone he feels safer and more secure and I think we'll probably be hanging around here a lot more frequently."

"That's ridicul-"

"Don't, Remus," you say gently. "It's no more ridiculous than the fact that a prophecy took away Harry's childhood and dictated the first seventeen years of his life. The prophecy said that Voldemort would mark him. He is no longer marked. Ergo, the fates that have governed his life thus far are voided. And please don't repeat yourself this time. Because before you repeated that it couldn't be true twice and I don't want you to repeat that it's ridiculous because whether or not you agree with his logic it is sound as far as circumstantial logic can be and he believes it. It's logically correct and I think we can all agree it's been a hard enough day without bickering amongst ourselves." You run your hand over my hair and down my neck and say, "Anything else?" I look you in the eye and force a slight smile and you say, "Enough."

"Are you going to be talking for Harry from now on?"

I feel you bristle slightly and you say, "Only when he wants me to. And that probably won't be for much longer anyway. As I said, rough day." You stroke the back of my head. It's open and affectionate. Those men used to show each other what they did to me but this is nothing like that. You aren't showing off it's just open and affectionate and I lean into the touch and you say, "I hope you can respect that."

"Of course I can." He smiles openly and starts to put a plate together for himself. "So what are you boys doing this weekend?"

"Christmas shopping," I finally say. "Muggle London. What would you like for Christmas? Should I do the usual, random, mostly naff guess?"

"Come to supper Christmas Eve?"

"That's not a present." I shake my head.

"It's all I want." His voice is earnest.

"I'll be here, of course I will." I swallow hard.

You clear your throat softly and say, "You would be welcomed at the castle on Christmas Day."

"Draco, that's very kind but-"

"Severus is the only one who has any problem with you and he is in so much trouble with both Harry and I that he would say nothing. Everyone else would enjoy your company. There's no pressure, it's just an observation." You sip your juice as though you've said nothing of import. Unseen I slide a hand under the table to your thigh.

Remus laughs, "How do you know everything, Draco?"

At that I too smile and say, "Draco is a stalker; he's good at reading people." He laughs again and I say, "No, really: he was stalking me, it's how he got so close." He sobers quickly and I say, "I needed it, Remus. I got kind of lost. After the war… I just sort of gave in. But Draco was always shadowing me, was always there, never intrusive or judgmental. That's how he knew about my family, knew what I really wanted, and knew how to give it to me. And please don't see this as some sort of Stockholm situation. I'm not under any thrall. I needed someone who was watching me all the time and it couldn't be… it couldn't be someone I felt close to because they would have died and besides I didn't want anyone to know how hard of a time I was having. I've been falling apart for ages. I liked that he could see me, in a weird, twisted way and now… Draco knows everything and he still loves me. And he says-" I blush hard but feel he deserves to hear this. You reach down to take my hand. "Well he thinks… lots of people would want to be with me –and really me not Harry Potter- and that I could 'do better' but I love Draco. He's who I want to be with and I personally like that he stalked me. It was irritating and frightening but it was also, I don't know, comforting." Remus remains silent. "I'm not telling you this to upset you. I'm trying to be honest with you and I don't want to hide my actions from you anymore."

"Thank you. So you'll come Christmas Eve?"

"Yeah, but I'm still going to get you some lame gift." I laugh as I cut into a roast potato. The conversation turns to nicer things and you stay close. You don't speak much but are warm and cordial. You let the conversation wash over you and add small things to it. It's nice to have a conversation with three parties in it. It feels like it's been you and me in our own world for ages and in a way it has been. For months I have thought about you, had conversation with you, but this is the first time another person has been involved. It feels good.

Remus tells us about a few places we might like to go to and I say, "How do you know all this?"

"Well the Ministry aren't too big on werewolves. So I've been avoiding most of our kind. I mean, even the vampires are more accepted. It might be getting better soon, we'll see. Kingsley has been trying to get the Ministry to review protocol but a lot of people just point to me and say that he has an unfair bias. These social opinions come in waves. Give it a couple of years and it will all be back to normal." I know I can't argue; there is nothing I can say to fix this. He reads my sadness and says, "It's okay, I know… You need to talk to Kreacher. Something is up with him. He won't come see me. He'll do things I ask but he won't actually appear in the room so something is wrong. He won't even eat with me which usually he'll do as he doesn't view me as master. At first I thought he was just up to one of his schemes but he's gotten worse the last week or so. He's stopped cleaning the kitchen which isn't a good sign as he's so house-proud."

I call out to him, "Kreacher! I need you, please."

He appears and looks anywhere but my face. "Master, it's so nice to have you home," he says still not looking at me.

"Kreacher, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, Master."

"It's not a pleasantry. Please be honest." His color is off, more yellow than he normally is. And when he finally meets my eye I see that his own are very yellow.

"My liver, Master, I'm growing older."

"You're seventy. House elves live well into their hundreds."

"I'm sorry I'm deficient."

"Don't say that. I'm concerned for your health."

"There's nothing to be done, Master."

"St. Mungo's-"

"Doesn't deal with creatures."

"You aren't a creature. You're Kreacher… Hagrid would be able to help."

"My place is here."

"Consider it an order. Go to him directly and stay until you feel well." I think about this, he's too good at working within the parameters of foggy language and correct myself. "Stay until he says you can come home. There's nothing deficient about you: you're ill. You shouldn't have kept it a secret."

"A house elf does not complain, Sir."

"Well from now on you should. When something is wrong you must tell us."

"I'm sorry, Master."

I sigh, "I'm sorry too. I thought you would understand by now. You're not just a servant; you're also a member of this gang. I'm sorry that I haven't made this clear enough to you. Until he says you have a clean bill of health I want you to stay with Hagrid and relax. Alright?"

"Yes, thank you for your concern."

"I'll visit you if you're still there in a few days."

"Thank you, Master."

"There's no need for thanks. Pack yourself a case and I'll call Hagrid."

After we see him off we sit in the kitchen a while longer for a last cup of tea. After a while I can't fight my yawns and say, "Sorry, Remus, I'm not much of a guest tonight."

"You're not a guest. Kreacher made up the master bedroom for you and Regulus' for Draco. You sleep well. Draco, would you like anything else?"

"No, no, I'm fine, I'm off to bed too." I lead you up the stairs with our bags in hand. We go straight to the master bedroom. The candles light themselves and the room is clean and warm the way it always is. Remus has claimed Sirius' room for himself and always left this one to me. There are the two photos of Sirius and me on the dresser. I smile at the comfortable room around me and you say, "I'm supposed to be in Regulus' room."

"He's not sure how we're sleeping. The other room was made up so that we were both comfortable with the arrangement. He doesn't care where you sleep."

"You sure?"

"Yes." I start to unbutton your robes. "Are you too tired to make love to me?" I feel you tense beneath my fingers and I say, "We're not stressed out; there are no Postman Pat sheets on the bed. Do you not want-"

"Don't finish that thought. I want you, of course I want you. I just don't want to rush."

"Last night was amazing. And I'm sorry I was mean afterwards. I was really freaked out. I never…" I feel the flush in my cheeks but force myself to continue. "I always assumed all… penetration was painful. I thought people, normal people, did it because they loved each other. I thought it was an act of love because it hurt. I never thought it could feel good or wonderful. And I want to feel that again. I want to be with you without any pretense. Last night I had an agenda. Tonight I just want to be with you in this bed." You say nothing and I say, "It's okay."

"I trying not to be angry at them, I'm trying to remember that they got punished." You slowly start unbuttoning my shirt. "Sex is good, and fun, and so nice. You shouldn't feel any other way. I love you and I want us to feel it together. And I want you to keep your eyes open, and I need you to tell me if you get scared, and we're not getting anywhere near as much sleep as you were expecting." I move towards the bed and you follow "Is this good?" I start to unbutton your robes again and kiss your neck. You run one hand through my hair as you finish on my shirt and I feel the material slip off my shoulders "You are so beautiful, look at you all warm and close to me." You start in on my trousers and say softly, "So good to have you here with me. Love you." You shrug out of you robes and pull your undershirt off. You kick off your pants and are naked in front of me. I quickly find myself naked and you're still touching me all over.

"I love you; this is great." I sit on the edge of the bed and pull you between my legs. You stroke my hips and thighs while kissing my mouth. I fall back, pulling you with me. Your weight is comforting and grounding and you make me feel safe even though I'm pinned beneath you. You hum into my mouth a happy sound as your tongue pulls mine into a fight. My hands go to your back where I find tension in your muscles and I ask softly, "Are you okay?"

"Nerves, just nerves," You respond pulling back slightly. You drink in my face and I feel awkward under the scrutiny but you say, "You really are gorgeous." I go to work on the muscles in your shoulders and you groan. "You're offering sex and massages in bed. I might never get up." I laugh and keep working as you kiss me again and your hands wander and you stroke me slowly I feel my breath go erratic and you ask, "Still better than good?"

And I am embarrassed before it happens; the minute I realize what I'm about to do I bury my head in your shoulder and I feel your stroke go slower. Your other hand comes up and cups the back of my head as I cry silently into your shoulder. Softly you say, "Should I stop? I won't be upset." I shake my head and your pace picks back up and you're rubbing gently against me and it feels so good. I want to explain but I don't fully understand it myself you stroke my hair and whisper a litany of, "It's alright, alright, I'm here, it's all alright, let go, just let go. I have you, I love you, it's all alright. It's going to be fine." And I'm still massaging your shoulders and you stroke us both together, kissing the side of my face.

I pull you closer as you come against me and in a few moments I follow. In the stillness I start laughing even as I cry into your ever dampening clavicle. "It's new and it's scary. Being truly intimate is frightening. This is new. Last night, while amazing, was nothing like this. It was a rather warped test," You move both hands so that you are holding me close as though to show that you aren't mad for what I did last night. "And after that, in the toilet, it was sheer adrenalin. Tonight's different because we know what we want and it's beautiful. I can't understand how hard this must be for you but this is wonderful. I have you." I don't look up and you say, "You shouldn't be embarrassed, Harry. This is me."

I finally emerge from the safe darkness of your shoulder and say, "Thank you." You wipe at my tears and I say, "Sorry about the wet shoulder." And you smile and pull me down for a slow kiss. "I can barely look you in the eye," I say and laugh again.

"There's nothing wrong with you. Being so close and caring about someone, it's overwhelming." You start licking your finger clean and work them thoroughly in your mouth a though you don't want to waste the taste.

Laughing again I say, "I'm such a girl."

"No, just a very brave young man." You pull me up the bed and under the covers. "We should get some sleep; I'm going to wake you in a couple of hours with a blow job: fair warning."

I laugh as you rest your chin on my shoulder. It feels like only moments and then I feel your mouth on me as I struggle into wakefulness. "I thought you were kidding." You glance up at me and laugh with your eyes. I've never had a blowjob and I finally understand why I was forced to give so many because this is pretty awesome. And unlike when I've done this, you're into it. I don't have much will power and too quickly I say, "I'm going to come." You don't pull away but instead swallow me down. You swallow and I come, vision going blurry. When you finally pull away you're licking your lips and smiling brightly. "I wouldn't be offended if you spat."

"I like the taste of you," You respond, crawl up my body, and kiss me. I taste myself in your mouth and you pull back saying, "It's warm." You rub your cheek against mine. "Go back to sleep; you need some for later."

"You didn't come."

"Go back to sleep," You repeat. Your breath deepens and I feel you go lax against me.

When I wake up to your ministrations again I say, "We need to get some sleep tonight."

"Sleep late," you're stroking my flank and you lean over me. "This okay?"

"Still perfect, safe and sexy, and not overwhelming." Moving slowly you rest your weight on top of me and I say, "You're right, I might never get out of bed either. Want you."

"Yeah?"

"Completely sure."And you're kissing me again and rolling us so that I'm on top of you, in your lap.

You mutter a few spells and I feel my inner muscles relaxing as your slick fingers gently, slowly stretch me open and it feels like coming home. Kissing my neck you whisper things to me words like "pretty" and "perfect" and "precious". And while I balked at the words earlier I'm starting to believe them. You look at me with such adoration and you touch me with reverence. And it all feels real. This isn't about anyone but us. During the war, when we were collaborators, I trusted you more than anyone; I valued your opinions and ideas; you always had my back. And this is like that; it's just us and it's so much better than anything I could have imagined. I moan low and you ask softly, "Good?"

"Very, I like this. I promise: it's still safe and sexy." Continually kissing every inch of skin you can reach as you open me up. I writhe against you. I sit up, grinding down against you, "Love you." One of your hands steadies my hip and you guide me against you. You spread your hand so that your thumb can rub the puppy on my hip. It rolls onto its back and I feel its legs stretch out.

"Love you, too, Harry, love every inch of you." You're still stretch me and your fingers touch that place inside of me that makes me shudder and you smile up at me. I move against your hand setting up a rhythm. And you mutter again and I feel more lube inside of me and you say, "You feel ready?"

"Yeah, yeah." You position yourself and slide into me slowly and you hold my hip, making sure it's not fast.

Finally, after what seems like eternities, I'm flush against you and you ask, "Good?" I move downwards, My chest now parallel to yours. And I move slowly, taking the reins and you say, "I'll take that as a yes." You release my hip and wipe your hands on the sheet before reaching for my face and leaning up to kiss me. "Love you," you say again and I nod, unable to speak, unable to do anything but feel this, so breakingly good. I set a rhythm and you move with me saying, "I never thought we could have this."

"I'm glad we do."

"I'm sorry I-" I feel you come inside of me. One of your hands goes to finish me off and when my release finally hits I collapse against you. I can feel you pulse inside of me. I remember the awkward health class wherein Madame Pomfrey taught us safe sex spells. You would never hurt me but it's also nice to know we're protected. Panting you say, "I won't wake you again." You lick your fingers clean and slowly lift me off of you. I'm already half comatose and you say, "Sleep well, I love you."


	15. 15

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part:15/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Remus and Draco talk.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

* * *

The curtain is pulled back and Remus stands over us smirking. "A few things. It's almost one o'clock so if you want to go shopping you should get up. Secondly, Silencio, it's simple spell; you learned it years ago. If you're going to have loud sex at four in the morning it's common courtesy to use a Silencing Charm. And third you both need to shower as you reek. There will be bacon sarnies on the table in a half hour. Draco, brown sauce or ketchup?"

"Brown sauce."

"Good, we actually don't have ketchup." You have yet to move and he swats at your feet, "Get up." You groan and he leaves with a laugh.

"Remus heard us having sex," your words are muffled by my shoulder.

"Look on the bright side: he could have seen us." You groan again. "You're moody this morning."

"You kept me up half the night."

"Well, I kept Remus up too but he isn't grouchy." I stroke your ribs and you lean into the feel. "We should shower: we smell way too good to go out in public."

You start to sit up and say, "I really wanted to stay in bed forever."

"Christmas shopping and breakfast with Remus," I respond, "both are important."

"Hey, sex and massages. Which set is more important?"

I chuckle, "There's always tonight. So where's the loo?"

You sigh, "Fine, I'm getting up." You stand, stretch, and roll your shoulders. I follow you out the door, still naked and across the hall into a large toilet. You turn on the water and sigh, "How loud were we?"

"Well the bed squeaked a lot, and you make this really hot moaning noise."

"I make noises?"

"Sexy, good ones."

"Really? I make noise?"

"Yeah, you make noise and the bed squeaks, and it was awesome." I lean forwards to kiss you softly and you test the water and then pull me under the spray. I run my hand over your abdomen and reach for a flannel and soap and I start to wash you slowly, enjoying the way your muscles play under my hands, slick with soap.

You move into the touch and say, "I've never liked being manhandled." I start to pull away and you say quickly, "But I love how my space belongs to you. I love that it's almost subconscious to you. It's all yours just as your all mine." I reach for your hip and pull you closer and you gently rest your head on my shoulder. "I love that this is gentle, and safe, and still such a turn on." I feel your erection nudge against my thigh. And you laugh and say, "Silencio," with just the right cadence so that it will work without a wand.

"I love you." I say as I reach down to stroke you.

"I know," you say, "and you know that I love you." You grab shampoo and start to lather up my hair and then you own. Your breath becomes ragged as you get closer but you keep washing my hair. You rub against me, pushing my dick into the grove of your hip and I am so hot it's painful. You moan the same throaty, breathy noise from last night and it echoes off the tiled walls. We move together in the warmth and you say, "Safe," just before coming. I follow quickly and start to wash us with the flannel. You rinse out the suds in my hair and yours as I clean our bodies. And you turn off the water saying, "I know I've said it a lot. But you really are the best thing that's ever happened to me." I smile and you say, "Don't take it as a silly compliment to be smiled at." You look me in the eye and I feel all the mental blocks you built during the war vanish and am hit with the full force of your love, how happy you are, how safe you feel, how much you like the sex we're having, how you have hope for the future and a conviction that we will be together forever. It's not that I'm comparatively the best thing that has happened. You think I'm the best thing that could have ever happened to you.

I allow myself to luxuriate in the feel of your mind. I whisper inside your head that I love you, and want the same things, I open my mind and show you an image of you just a moment before you come and I whisper, "See how beautiful you are?"

You laugh inside my skull and say, "No, but I see what you see. I see that I'm beautiful to you." You flash a scene of me laughing to my head and say, "It's just the same for me. You're gorgeous. I just don't say it all the time."

"I do. And I'm going to keep saying it until it's a fact in your mind." I rub my face against your neck. "We should get dressed; get out of each other's heads."

"Yeah," you agree, "okay." I feel you pulling back and gently pushing me back. I pull myself back and shut my mind off as I feel your shields going up. "So fucking good," you mutter. "It's like that thing we used to do during the war only much more intimate, but then we were never this intimate during the war." You step out of the shower, open a closet, and pull out black bathrobes with the Black family crest on the back. You kiss me as you hand one to me and say, "I am ready for a sandwich."

I follow your lead and we head down to the kitchen in the robes. We eat in comfortable silence and you go to get dressed before me and I'm left with Remus. Turning to him I say softly, "I have to ask you some very uncomfortable questions. And I am going to do so as quickly as possible so that Harry doesn't have to hear them."

He smiles slightly and says, "Alright."

"Harry thinks you're suicidal. He has said nothing to me but it's in the way he looks at you. He's scared. I know you haven't been terribly close. He really does believe that he was fated to lose everyone but he cares for you so deeply and he is frightened for you. As a strong man you hate that your dead friends' incredibly rich son pays for you. You feel resentful and like a kept man. But you shouldn't. He hates it too. He hates that you view it as charity, and that he can't do more, and that you're miserable. He thinks of you as his last living relative and he wishes things were easier for you. So if he is correct please try and find hobbies? And if it is too much, please contact me? Don't let him be the one to find you. He has coped with so much but don't make him find you."

Remus seems to think before answering, "I'll try to view it from his perspective, I will get hobbies, and I will make sure that it doesn't happen."

"Thank you."

"No, don't thank me. Thank you. I know that that must have been quite frightening for you to bring up."

"It was quite."

"Should I be worried about the fact that you stalked him?"

I feel you push gently in my mind and ask you silently to stay away, explain that I'm talking to Remus about stalking you and you might be more comfortable if you don't witness it. You laugh in my skull and tell me to take my time. "You weren't on the front lines once the war became full blown battles. I'm glad; he needed you to be at the back, directing and planning, safer. But you weren't there. It was… unreal. Afterwards I would go into Rus' quarters and stay on his couch for days.

"The only secret that still exists is that we were children. Everyone knows and recognizes that we were sixteen but no one knows that we were children. And I would go back to the castle and hide in my godfather's arms. He… I think he went to his parents. We were just children and we pretended to be competent because it was expected of us. And everyone, everyone, envied us our position in the war. Everyone thought we were brave. But we were kids and we're still kids. We were surrounded by death, and fear, and explosions. We both killed people; I'm glad you weren't there because he needs you to see him as a kid and not a killer.

"He needed someone to see all of him, to recognize everything he is without disgust, disappointment, shock, or any other visceral reaction. So I started watching him, following him, knowing everything about him. I didn't glorify him, I was just there. He didn't have Rus' or anyone like him and he didn't get love and kindness in the aftermath he just had me and all I did was recognize him."

"I don't recognize him?"

"Not to the extent I do, no."

"Are you still stalking him?"

I hear your feet on the stairs and you come in saying, "It's not as creepy as it sounds. I wasn't prey or anything. Draco wasn't trying to end up with me. It wasn't pressuring. Now that he has me the game has changed. He still sees me in exactitude but I'm not trying to stop him. It's comfortable." You lean over my shoulder and kiss the side of my mouth. "I transfigured your robes into Muggle clothes."

"Thanks, let me get dressed and we can get going."

As I stand Remus says, "Thank you for your candidness."

"It's the least really, after your promise."


	16. 16

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 16/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Harry and Draco go shopping. Harry feels like Draco's ambassador.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

* * *

"Promise?" I ask as you leave and Remus smiles.

"I promised Draco I wouldn't kill myself and would endeavor to be happier."

I feel myself pale. You brought that up? Of course you knew, you can read me but it's still awkward to bring it up. "Remus, I know that-"

"I needed an outsider's kick."

"So we're okay?" I ask moving to put the kettle into the fire.

"Of course… I'm still not sure I like the fact that he stalked you."

"I do, and that's going to have to be enough for you. We're going to be together for a good long time."

"Okay, I'll get over it. So what hobbies are there for a middle-aged werewolf to pick up?"

"Windsurfing? Knitting? Horseback riding? Baking? Gardening? Painting? Um… I can't think. You could get a dog?" We're silent for a few moments and the kettle whistles. I stand and pour out three cups of tea, pouring in milk and sugar accordingly.

"I could garden… All I do is sit around reading."

"Knowledge is power."

"Well at this rate I will be the most powerful man on Earth." He laughs and sounds tired.

"I'm sorry, maybe gardening would work."

"Maybe. I read last night's and this morning's papers."

"Yes?"

"Avoid people today if you don't want motherly witches crying on you."

"Is it that bad?"

"This long after the war and some Death Eater attacking your family? Yes: it will be that bad. You are every bit the darling tragic hero."

"Thanks for the heads up."

"How are you?"

"Remus… I think they got what they deserved. They abused a kid. And I don't regret it or care about them."

"Harry-"

"Draco knows all about it," I interrupt. "He figured it out by watching me and he just stands by me. He's good for me."

He goes quiet and I want you to come in and break the mood but I'm alone and have to cope with it myself when he says, "Are saying that I failed? Should I have watched you more closely? I always thought you were just private."

"No, no. I never wanted anyone to know I just thought… I thought that I would handle it and just be by myself. I never wanted anyone's help. I wanted my secret. You couldn't have helped me. You're a werewolf and not my blood. You couldn't have gotten custody of me when I was younger. I needed you to be exactly how you were. And I'm okay now because Draco knows and he doesn't care and the fact that he doesn't makes me think that maybe it wouldn't change much if everyone knew but I'm still… it was a rough childhood, y'know, and I've moved on."

"You're happier than you have been in a long time." He doesn't make me respond, which I'm grateful for. Instead he says, "Draco is taking a while."

Thinking for a moment I say, "I bet the jeans confused him. I'll be back."

Upstairs I find you staring down at your jeans. You're trying to figure out how to button them up the back. I can't stop the laughing that bubbles up. "I don't get it at all. Don't laugh at me. Did I laugh at you when… actually I can't think of a time I wasn't laughing at you for the first four years I knew you."

"Your trousers are on backwards."

"Also these tops are very constricting."

I lift your jumper and say, "The undershirt goes under the button down."

You look at my trainers and sweatshirt and say, "You don't dress like this."

Kissing you lightly I say, "Just because I transfigured your clothes doesn't mean I get to dress you. You're always more formal than me. This is the slightly more formal teenager gear. I could have given you slacks but no one wears slacks." I pull off your sweater and t-shirt and unbutton the over shirt. And then put your t-shirt back on and pull your shirt onto your shoulders.

"These clothes are confining." You kick the jeans off and say, "I don't get it."

"Give them a chance for a day." I finish on the buttons and pull your trousers up. And as I button the fly I say, "They're normal if you grow up in them."

"Aren't there things more like robes?"

"Yes, but women wear dresses, not men."

"I'm pretty."

"I will go out with my preppy boyfriend but I will not go out with my boyfriend in a dress. We'll call a lot of attention to us."

"But women can wear jeans?"

"But it doesn't go in reverse. At least not in the streets of London midday. There are a lot of clubs… Camden. But you'd also be in heels and eyeliner…"

You look at me as I fall into the pause, "What?"

"Eyeliner. Gimme a minute, I'm working through the image." You smile and pick up your wand flicking it at your face. Your eyes are suddenly lined with kohl. Your grey eyes are even more defined. I can see the want there and it burns into me. "Oh, oh, Draco, I don't think that's a good idea. And I might be forced to call you babe in a minute."

"I'm really fine with that." You slant your hips towards me and cup my face with both hands.

"We have to go shopping," I whine. You bite at my lower lip and pull gently. "Draco, this isn't fair. We have stuff to do. Please."

"Please?" Yours is low and breathy. "Really want you inside of me and out of these stupid trousers."

"You've got to stay in the stupid trousers and we need to go shopping." I kiss your mouth with a laugh. "Later we can come here and we can be together like that… I'd like to do that with you."

"Fine…" You wave your wand again and the eyeliner is gone. "I still hate the clothes."

"Sorry. We should get going."

You nod and kiss me one last time and say, "How do we get to the Muggle shopping streets?"

"We're going to King's Road."

"Floo to the Leaky Cauldron?"

"Let's take the bus… no wait we need to the bank and exchange money… I'll get the invisibility cloak."

"Are we going to Floo invisibly because that might be dangerous?"

"Really? You think so? I think we've done more dangerous things in our sleep. This is just a face-saver."

"That's wholly true." You laugh and pull on your boots. "Are these okay?"

"They look like expensive, out of fashion boots. Just don't point out that they're dragon hide." I toss you one of the coats I have in the closet. "I'm kind of excited about doing this, going out into the Muggle world with you. I've never really hung out in Muggle London before."

I grab your hand and pull you down to the kitchen where we say goodbye to Remus, tell him we won't be home for tea, ask him if he'd like to come, and Floo into the pub. We remain silent. People stare at the fireplace as it roars into life but we move stealthily to the back.

Walking down Diagon Alley we dodge around people quickly until we're safe inside the bank. We move together and it feels good. In the war we could act independently of one another while completely aware of the other's movements. We've slipped back into the mindset with ease and it's comforting and makes me feel like we're a team. Approaching a goblin you whisper, "May we speak privately?"

He doesn't blink an eye just whispers, "Of course, follow me."

In a small room we pull off the cloak and I say, "Thank you very much."

"Of course, sir. How can I help?" He is brisk, cold, and exactly what I wanted.

"We'd like to exchange some money for pounds."

You look confused throughout the process. And you allow me to do all the talking. Afterwards we sneak back out, through the street, and into Muggle London. In a back alley we remove the cloak again and I fold it and put it in my knapsack. "Ready?"

"Yes, but you need to do conversion rates for me all day."

"It's fine… where do you want to go first?"

"Coffee?"

"There must be a Caffé Nero." We go in and the smell is perfectly rich and it smells of Christmas flavors and I almost salivate. We look up at the board and I say, "You know what you want yet?"

"What's the price?"

"Ten sickles and twenty-three knuts. But don't worry I have this."

You point and say, "I want that, please."

We walk out ten minutes later me sipping a cinnamon mocha and you with a caramel latte. And you seem almost hesitant to try it. Muggle flavours are very different from what we eat every day. "It's good, I promise, and if you want we can trade." You finally take a taste and your eyes go wide. "I know, right?"

"If you don't spend time in this culture how do you know these things?"

"Um… I don't know. I mean, it's just common knowledge. Just because I don't go to the Quidditch matches every week doesn't mean I don't like it." We head outside and head towards a Kids Gap.

"Who are you buying clothes for?"

"Dobby. I think he'd like a button up turtleneck." We wander around, me picking up clothes and you just grimacing.

"Do Muggles really wear this stuff?"

"Yes, it's normal." I say picking up a blue and grey stripped button up turtleneck, "This is just the ticket. Y'want anything?"

"To get out of the freak show. Honestly how do people dress like this all the time?"

"Believe me, after growing up in these clothes, robes are weird." I say heading for the cash register. I pay quickly and then turning to you I say, "We should go to a bookstore. You can see that my people aren't illiterate."

"That would be great; I'd like to see that. But it might take me a while to leave once we get in there. It's a bookstore after all."

"Good, I'll get you settled in and then run to the electronic store."

"Ah, yes, elec-tri-city, I read about that. It's the power Muggles use. What power do you need?"

"No, I'm buying the TV," I smile. "It's a machine that runs off electricity." We walk through the streets. You seem to study everything, the people, the stores, the cars, everything.

In front of one shop you stop to look at the display. It's a large cosmetics store and you study the sign about dermatological make-up. "Oh, let's go."

"What?"

"Millicent and Pansy are always bitching about the fact that all wizard cosmetics are dragon oil based. Apparently it's effervescent but causes breakouts. I would love it if I never have to hear it again."

I allow you to drag me into the store. And I look around at all the displays and say, "We need to find someone to help us."

"That would be me," says a voice behind us. As I turn I recognize the girl and her eyes widen. She had been two years ahead of us in Ravenclaw and she smiles, "Harry, Draco, cool. Hi. If someone had asked me who would turn up today it would not have been either of you."

"Hi, Anna," you say and I am so relieved you remember her name.

"Harry, I, well actually, I guess you're here today because you don't want to hear it."

"Yeah, sorry, we're here so Draco can buy presents for Millicent and Pansy."

"Sick of the oily stuff our people make? Understood. Full works?" You nod. "Well, Millicent is a fall and Pansy's a winter. So, eye shadow, lip stick, foundation, blush, and mascara. It's going to run you about forty pounds each so that's eighty. But then you can use my discount so that's sixty-four pounds which is… twelve galleons, thirteen sickles, and seventeen knuts."

"Sounds fair," you nod. "They'll love it."

We trail after her as she explains that she actually works for a potion company but got ill while in Syria and was taking time off. We listen, and nod, and you end up shelling out sixty-three pounds. We head to the bookstore and once there you stand agog looking around. "So many books you've never seen," I laugh.

"Merlin," you mutter, "this is an awful lot of books. This is like book heaven."

"No, it's just a W H Smith… an admittedly large W H Smith but not heaven."

"This is bigger than Flourish and Blotts with all new books."

As we walk around you head directly to the tech section and pull out a copy of Electricity For Dummies. "That's going to be about how to rewire stuff. It's a guide for people who need to know the basics."

"That's me."

"Draco, you don't need to know it. I don't care."

"Well I do. I want to get it. And if I'm getting a 'telly' for Christmas I want to know how it works. What do you want for Christmas? I have a present but it doesn't seem right now."

"When do you buy me a present?"

With a slightly embarrassed smile you say, "A little over a year ago."

"Really?" I smile happily, "A year ago?"

"Yeah, with all the hell that was going down I thought… But then you told me that you kind of hate Christmas because of the forced jolliness and that you were almost glad that you didn't have to observe it as we were too busy so I didn't give it to you."

"That's what I want for Christmas, whatever it is."

"It's not big or meaningful."

"You bought it a year ago… Christmas does pain me… I have an idea. How much do you like Christmas?"

"I like it well enough. It isn't a big deal."

"After dinner with Remus on Christmas Eve we go straight to a hotel, have sex, mess about, order room service, whatever, and then we don't go back to the castle until it's time to eat. That could be my present."

"Sure, sure. Where?"

"Just around here somewhere. I don't want to go away, just hideout."

"Okay, sounds fun."

You stroke my face, smiling at me, and I say, "We're in public."

"Are Muggles so bigoted that they would beat us up for this?"

"No not at all. I just think it's going to be really embarrassing when I kiss you and we knock over the shelf."

You nod and pull away slightly, "Fair enough." You look around and say, "All of the sections are clearly marked, there are chairs so I can look through them and decide what I want, so you can leave me for a while. Go buy your electronics while I entertain myself."


	17. 17

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 17/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Severus visits Remus.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: angst.

* * *

The boys have been gone for a half hour and I'm thinking over what they said. I go through lists of cheer-me-up options and set to work on the first step I can think of. I set a large cauldron in the fire and start pulling out different elements for the anti-depression potion. It won't make me less bored or depressed but it will help me just enough so that I can take steps to be less miserable. I start chopping things up when I hear the knock at the door. I wipe off my hands and run up the stairs wondering who it can be as the only person who has visited me recently is Harry. Opening the door I'm shocked. It could have been Kingsley or one of the Weasleys and I wouldn't have been surprised. But I'm unprepared to see Severus Snape standing on the doorstep this far from the full moon. In his arms he has a very heavy looking bag.

"Severus, I… Do come in." I always endeavor to be polite to him no matter the circumstance but today he looks like he needs it.

"Are they here?"

"Out in the city."

He nods and follows me down to the kitchen asking, "What are you brewing?"

"Palliative for depression, laugh and I throw you out, whether or not you look miserable."

"I'm sorry to have intruded."

"No, not at all. Sit down, would you like some tea? I was about to put the kettle on?"

"Do you have any instant coffee?"

"Of course." He sits and is silent for a while as I put the kettle into the fire and resume chopping things up.

"Would you like help?"

"Only if you want, Severus." He doesn't move. "Why are you here exactly? Not to put any pressure on you or anything. But this isn't a usual occurrence."

"I never really saw him as a boy. I never gave him an inch, not even at the hardest points in the war, not even as a small child. I was purposefully mean to him."

"Severus-"

"And now I know what those sick b-"

"He has never told me about it. He has always been so secretive."

"And you didn't push?"

"I'm not his godfather, and after Sirius died… the world knew I was a werewolf; I could never have won custody." He flinches but it wasn't meant as a dig so I push on. "I suppose he felt it held no purpose to expose himself when he would have gotten nothing in return. He never told me and you can't be the one to do so. I'm sorry."

"I need to apologize to him without saying anything because words won't help."

"Do you need suggestions?" I ask as I pull the whistling kettle out and add it to the cups of dried coffee.

"No, just help." Reaching into the bag he pulls out a large Pensieve and places it on the table. "I filled it with all of my memories of her from when we were children but I don't have a single positive one of them in school. Dumbledore has put in his but their mostly from the safe times during the war. So I was wondering if you would fill it with yours. I-"

He falters and I prompt him gently, "Go ahead."

Sipping his coffee he finally says, "If you could organize it? Make a catalogue or something? I would do it myself but I don't really feel like I have the right to see them."

"You're punishing yourself very harshly."

"If you knew…I, I cannot make amends."

Unsure of what to say I finally decide on, "May I look at your memories?"

"Of course, you'll probably need to for cataloguing purposes."

Severus begins to stand bur I say, "No, sit. Drink your coffee. You're too anxious to be **Apparating****.** Just sit and calm down a bit."

As he sips he looks down at the table. He seems to cast around for something to say. "So anti-depressant potion?"

"I figure it can't hurt, your godson pointed out that I'm borderline suicidal and that I need to get back on track before Harry is forced to discover my body."

There is a long pause, "I'm sorry that I outted you."

"I put students and you in danger; it was necessary. You're logic was impeccable."

"My motives weren't."

"In that situation was only the result that counted." I finish stirring the potion and know that it needs to boil for twenty minutes undisturbed. Turning to the larder I say, "Dobby sent biscuits."

"You've always been so polite to me while I treat you like…"

"A rabid, mindless, dangerous animal? I know. But I'm only like that three nights a month and only without your potion. Just because you treat me one way does not mean I have to react in the manner you have prescribed for me." I say finding the biscuits and putting some on a plate. Sitting down I push the plate at him, "Have a few your coloring is awful. Whatever happened is over now; Draco has worse than killed those people. And you're making him a Pensieve. At this point there's not much else to do. So just eat a biscuit and try to put it aside." He takes the biscuit and looks at it before biting and chewing moodily. "You either can or cannot get past this with him. Flogging yourself won't make a difference."

"He and Draco are serious aren't they?" he finally asks.

"I think so… that war."

"I know. We destroyed so many lives. And we cleaved to those who understood. It will never really be over; not so long as we're still here."

"Are they cleaving?" I ask. "Is that what it is?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I think what we need to do is leave them alone. They'll work it out between themselves."

"Does it bother you that Draco stalked him?"

"I didn't know that actually. Draco studies and watches. Besides, I think Harry might have needed a stalker, he needed someone he wasn't close to to recognize what was happening. Draco isn't a bad type of stalker, not dangerous. He even came to me to tell me when he was concerned about Harry. In turn I was cruel to Harry." He flinches at the memory. "I think they are genuinely," he pauses as though what he is about to say is difficult or new and breathes in before saying, "in love. I should go. I'd rather Harry didn't know I was here. I want to keep the Pensieve under wraps."

I remember Harry speaking of Draco's stalking in the same manner. "Of course, discretion is all."

He stands to leave and says, "Thank you," there's a long pause as he decides what to call me, "Remus. You've been very kind."

"I'll pop it over in a few days or so?"

"That would be wonderful."

"I'll come over early. You still wake up in the middle of the night?"

"About five."

"Good, I'll come over around five thirty on the morning it's done."

"Thank you again."

"Your Wolfsbane has improved the quality of my life. We can call it quits."

"I'll look up your anti-depressant when I get home and will floo you to let you know how it will interact with the Wolfsbane."

"Excellent, great, thanks."

The boys come back at almost eleven and I am sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea. And start pulling out tiny bags from their pockets, they resize them and I see that most of Draco's are bags filled with books. From one he pulls out a stack and piles them in front of me. The top one has the title "Fifty Hobbies When Retiring Early". Looking at the spines I see that they are all about hobbies and there are four on gardening. "Thought they might help figure things out," he says as Harry goes to put the kettle back in the fire.

"Thank you, Draco, that's very kind."

Harry wrinkles his nose at the smell of the cauldron which has to cool entirely before a dose can be taken, "Is that an antidepressant?" I nod. "Cool. That's good, right?"

"It's good," I nod awkwardly. "So how was shopping?"

"I hate Muggle clothes but their book shops are heaven and then we ate at this place with lovely olives."

"Ha!Ha!" Harry supplies to me.

"Oh, lovely. Did you finish all of your shopping?"

"Yep, I got you a stupid gift."

"I told you that I don't want anything."

"You're getting the same thing as Draco, that's how lame I am. But it's a good time waster."

I just laugh. Harry never seems to understand that I really don't want anything. Draco makes a comment about getting out of the clothes and goes upstairs. Harry putters about at the counter not making eye contact. "Harry, seeing you happy is a better gift than anything you can buy. You seem lighter and calmer. You're all over the newspaper and you've had a falling out with the person who thought he was your best friend. And you're still happier than I've ever seen. That scar you've always covered is gone and you're laughing. And it's not the empty polite laugh you always use."

"Have you thought about dating?" he asks softly. "I mean, I know it doesn't solve anything but… I miss him too but not like you do. You ache for him all the time and he can never be replaced, he was Sirius. But there must be someone out there. I don't believe that there's only one person out there. I know that I can't tell you what to do. For twelve years you were alone and thought he'd betrayed you, then you got him back but it wasn't long enough. It never could have been. And it's only been two years and I know that you're still grieving but maybe someone else could make it a little better.

"And maybe you aren't ready, but maybe someday you will be. Sirius wouldn't want you to be sad; he wouldn't like you to be alone forever. It's harder because you're a werewolf but, I mean, I never thought anyone would want me let alone Draco but he does. My past is gone and you have to carry the reminders with you, you have to be a wolf three days a month but you keep your mind. Someone wants you. You can tell me to shut up. Everyone who is in a happy relationship tells single people to see someone. That it fixes everything. That's bull. It doesn't fix anything but it's nice." He laughs and it's not the happy noise I was talking about earlier and he says, "I'm talking out of my hat. Have my first boyfriend and think I can say something useful about life." He starts to pull the kettle out and then takes my now empty cup and fills it and two others with hot water and new teabags.

"Thank you, Harry. But I'm not read-"

"I know," he cuts me off. "Just don't rule it out."

I think as he pours in milk and sugar. "There's something else you could give me." He looks up, almost excitedly. "He taught you how to heal?"

"Yeah."

"Will you remove all these old scars?"

"Easily, but you're gonna have to get naked so we might not want to do this in the kitchen." I nod, stand and take my cup, and start to walk out of the kitchen. We meet Draco on the stairs and Harry hands off one of the teas. "Remus and I are going to get rid of his scars."

"I'm going to go through the bags start wrapping –we forgot paper- damn it."

"In the sitting room cupboard," Remus supplies, "I've already bought and wrapped Harry's."

He smiles, relieved, and says, "Good, I need to recover from my exciting day."

In Sirius room I begin to undress. Harry looks at all the things on the walls. Much of it is as Sirius left it but I've added things, small paintings, photos. Harry turns to me once I'm down to underwear. "You can't think about what I'm doing." I nod and grab the book I'm reading off my bed. I begin to read as I feel his hands rub over my back and shoulders. He moves down to my legs. I think the protagonist is mad, I think that's the twist. He takes one of my arms, forcing me to read one handed. I have to switch hands when he needs my other arm. He runs up my neck and then says, "I need to do your face and you need to think of it as a massage." I nod and look into his eyes and his hands slide over my face and through my hair. He sighs and says, "Okay, time to be a man and drop your drawers." I laugh but do as he says. And his hands move over my hips, thighs, and arse quickly and finally he says, "Get dressed, you're fine now. And if you want them back just let me now; I can retrieve them."

"Thank you, Harry," I say as I redress.

He smiles, his genuine smile, and says, "I always wanted to do something for you."

"You're doing everything for me."

"The money doesn't mean anything. It only has meaning when you need it which I don't. It's not enough. It's nothing I'm doing. We're the only ones left here I should be able to do more. I'm going to be hanging around a lot more. I mean, the prophecy is gone, it's safer."

His words echo Draco's. It's the second echo of the day and it feels as though people are starting to think on the same level. As I'm finally fully dressed I pull him close. "It's going to be all right now. It's going to be okay."

He nods and says, "I should wash my hands and join Draco. Coming down?"

"In a moment." I release him from the hug and he leaves me. Once I'm alone I go to the mirror and study my face, I look younger, less tired. I had almost forgotten this face and I spend some time looking at it before going down stairs.

In the stairway I hear Draco say, "That was fast."

"His were all superficial. It wasn't like you and me. I didn't have to heal any underlying bones. It was just surface wounds." The words strike me cold, he didn't gain any scars since coming to Hogwarts, every wound was healed, the ones he speaks of come from before. I walk into the room quickly.

Draco smiles up from the floor where he's wrapping. Behind him is a large tree, lit with glittering twinkles of magic, and he says, "I hope you don't mind, conjured it up. And I flooed Kreacher, asked where the decorations were," he points over his shoulder. "Thought we could decorate it in the morning."

"That sounds lovely," I agree still wanting to vomit from what I overheard. Instead I sit down next to him and Harry and help them wrap the multitude of presents.

Later I cast a silencing charm and climb naked into bed. The sheets feel different against smooth skin. The bedding still smells of Sirius, and old spell but comforting none the less. No matter the cleaning spell used on them there is always the smell of his warm skin, his hair. I breathe in and sob. I cry and I don't try to muffle it as the boys can't hear. Taking the Pensieve out from under my bed I set about copying memories and placing them inside. I don't do just Lily and James. I put everything I remember of them in it. Even the biggest fight ever that ended in him shouting, "I only hate you because I love you." and her kissing him for the first time. I put a lot of Sirius and me in as well. Excepting graphic and sad parts, I put our whole relationship inside, from our first kiss, our first real conversation about being together, having him back. It all goes in. Every happy memory I have of our group goes into the Pensieve. There's years worth of memories in it, Harry could watch them all solidly for five years. Severus and Dumbledore's memories make it a decade. But it's not enough. I categorize all of them and am done before dawn. I wish that there were other people who could add to it but I can't think of anyone else. Realizing that it's five thirty I dress and get ready to floo to the school, the sooner Severus has it the sooner Harry will. Draco is right, they are children: and there's nothing left for me to do to protect them.


	18. 18

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 18/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: sex, gifts, memories.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

Warning: drug use.

* * *

I wake up early. You're asleep on your side facing me. You look easy in your sleep, the sheets are down to your waist and all of your bare, pristine skin is on display. The only mark is a bruise in the shape of a hand on your hip; I couldn't help it. Last night was amazing. After we went to bed you said almost hesitantly, "Do you still want to do that thing?"

Smiling I said, "Do I still want you inside of me for the first time? Silencio."

You blushed but pulled me closer, kissing my mouth, and pawing at my skin. It felt so good just to give in to you. You didn't let me help with anything. You just pushed me back and stripped out of your thin tee shirt while I watched. And then you came towards me and said, "I want to see your face. Can we do it like this?" I nodded and you said, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"I didn't either just do what feels good to you. I'll tell you if it hurts. I want this, Harry, I've wanted this for years. Never wanted anyone else."

"No one?" You started to kiss a trail up my body.

"Myron Wagtail."

You looked up with a laugh, "The guy from the Weird Sisters?"

"I was thirteen."

"That's not an excuse for bad taste."

"You didn't want me. I had already tried for you."

"Really? Already?" You stopped at my belly button, lapping at the indent.

Your tongue tickled and I couldn't not writhe under your ministrations. "I tried to shake your hand."

"We were eleven."

"Still wanted to kiss you."

"No one else? Not, like, Blaise or Pansy?"

"Pansy is a girl and Blaise is like a brother to me… actually I may have kissed him once while very drunk but that's my sexual history right there."

You huffed a laugh against my nipple. "So it's just you and me? Kind of on the same footing."

"Firsts," I agreed and you're up to my neck. "Kiss me, please."

You did and rested your weight on me, "Good?"

Smirking I said, "Keep going for me? You feel so good against me."

You touched me and whispered the spell and I felt myself instantly become looser and slid your fingers inside. We breathed together, lips touching. You moved your fingers and opened me up slowly, muttering the spell again when it became necessary. I panted and you said softly, "Okay?"

"My God."

"Good, you look pretty," and you licked sweat off my neck, "even taste pretty." And when you finally slipped inside of me you moaned, "God, Draco, so good, so good. Good?"

"Yes, yes, just keep going."

"Can't for much longer, so hot."

"Okay, touch me?" I asked and even to my own ears it sounded desperate. You stroked me in time with your thrusts. When I came you moaned and I understood, could feel myself contracting around you and you came hard inside of me. You started to roll off trying to get your, now heavy, weight off of me. But I gripped your hip (hard enough to leave a mark apparently) and whispered, "Stay with me?"

Relaxing you said, "Sure, love you. You okay?"

"Yeah, just want to luxuriate in the feel of this, you being here inside of me."

You ran your fingers over my skin and we dozed like that for a good half hour until you said, "I need to get off you before I fall asleep, because that won't be comfortable for anyone in the morning." I allowed you to move, loosening my arms, and you slid to my side, wrapping your arms around me. You kissed my shoulder and said, "Love you, go to sleep."

I did as you commanded and now get to watch you sleep. Running my hand over the bruise I remove it and slowly stand stretching my arms and enjoying the slight ache of my body. Walking across the hall I climb into the shower and wash quickly. After dressing I go downstairs for a cup of tea and see Remus already sitting in the kitchen. He's leaning over the paper and I ask, "How bad?"

"It's just about the manhunt for the unknown assailant. But he probably won't want to see it." He looks up with a weak smile. He looks tired.

"Did you sleep last night?"

"No, I read the books you gave me." He's lying.

"Do you want to go back to bed?"

"It's almost nine," he laughs, "It's time to be awake. I thought I might bake today, gingersnaps."

"Want help? We can get a batch going before Harry wakes up."

He smiles again, a little more genuine and says, "Why not?" And stands to start collecting things.

"Are you done with the paper?" He nods and I throw it in the fire. He pulls out things and I say, "I need instructions."

He starts to give me directions, measurements, and he mixes things into the same bowl. Once it's done he rolls it out and gets cookie cutters shaped lie sleighs and stars and Christmas trees out and we work to punch out the cookies. The smell must have worked its way upstairs because you come down just as the first batch comes out of the oven and the second goes in. You breathe in deeply and say, "Morning, that smells fantastic." You kiss my cheek as you pass me and say, "Remus, are you okay? You look tired."

"Smooth skin felt very strange in bed, that's all." It's a different answer than the one he gave me and I know he's lying. We eat the still hot cookies and wait for the second batch to be done before we start to decorate. I conjure up another tree for the kitchen and we decorate it while still drinking our tea. And then we spend the rest of the day decorating. And by the time we're done it looks like Father Christmas' grotto. It takes all day but everything is sparkling with lametta and tinsel. By ten PM we are exhausted and you pull me, naked, into bed saying, "Can we just sleep tonight?"

"Of course, go to sleep."

We curl together under the sheets and you say softly, "I hate Christmas, but today was lovely. I don't want to go back to school tomorrow but we have to, otherwise Kingsley will get scared," You laugh gently into my shoulder and fall asleep fast it is comforting to listen to you breathe and I soon follow you into unconsciousness. Morning comes to soon and I wake up to see you packing and you smile and say, "Let's have breakfast with Remus before going back, yeah? I don't want to deal with the dining hall just yet."

"That sounds like a good idea." I stand and stretch and kiss the side of your mouth. "Sleep well?"

"Sort of, I don't want to go back, not after being happy and normal, not knowing that we're going to a place where everyone has read the paper." You pack silently and I wish there was something I could say but instead you break the silence with, "Let's go to your dad's house. We can figure out who's in the castle without going in."

"Another good idea."

Breakfast is quiet. Neither of us want to go back and Remus doesn't want us to leave. Not with the paper's articles hanging over us, it's too much. We leave after thanking Remus one more time and Floo into my dad's sitting room. Rus is reading on the couch and I say, "Do you think, maybe, before he comes through-"

"No." He looks dejected. "I have a gift."

I glance at the Floo, knowing you'll be here too soon. "You think you can fix this?" I almost laugh. "Rus, please-" the fire flairs behind me. "Go away."

"Mr. Potter," he says, ignoring me. "I have a gift for you."

I turn and see the horrified look on your face. I reach for your hand but you don't take it. "Thank you, Professor. But it's really unnecessary. Draco and I were just going to go upstairs." It's crisp and polite and I can hear the quiver, the anger, and fear, and disgust just under the surface. You never look at him and I want to tell you that you have nothing to be ashamed of but I can't do it in front of him. It's too personal, he doesn't deserve to see it and you wouldn't listen. "If you'll excuse us-"

"I cannot apologize, I cannot do anything about the past. There's nothing I can do to make amends. It's just a present, nothing more than that."

Looking up you finally say, "I'm sorry but I don't want it. I'm sorry, Professor."

Rus looks like he might be ill. "You don't need to apologize to me for anything."

"Can we just?" You breathe through your nose. "Can we just act like nothing has changed. You can hate me, I'll ignore you, it'll all be okay."

"It's a Pensieve." He gestured to the table where one is sitting. "It has memories of your parents. Remus put it together for me, there's some from me but… well he organized it. He's the only one who knows what's in it. There's also space, if you want to… the war, anything, you can take it out to get a goodnight's sleep. You can also transfer things from it into your mind. If you want to dream them… It's not an apology because I can't give you one."

You look at the Pensieve and Rus and then you walk past me and up the stairs. "It's a nice thought… lovely actually," I say to Rus. "Just leave him alone. Maybe, later, I'll talk him into taking it but right now… just leave him."

In my room I see you sitting on the bed, looking at the wall. You're lost, and you can feel it. You look up at me as I come in and shake your head. So instead of talking, I climb on to the bed behind you, pull you back so your back is flush against my chest, and your body is between my legs. I stroke my hands up and down your sides. You slowly relax against me and after a few minutes. "I, I, he knows. I know that doesn't change much but… Everyone, the paper, and he *_knows_*." I nod and keep stroking. "Harder to categorize. I don't want this. I just don't want."

"He doesn't matter," I feel like I've said this a thousand times.

"I don't mind that you know. But he… and that gift."

"Take it, it's yours. It won't change anything. You don't have to forgive him or like him I'll take the Pensieve. You don't need to accept it, I'll do it on your behalf. It doesn't matter. But it might calm you down a bit. You could take out some of your anxiety before we go up to the school."

You're silent for a long time and then sit forward a bit. "Would you get it? Please?"

I detangle myself from you and stand. Pausing I stroke your face and lean down to kiss your mouth. You rest your face against my palm, "Love you, just stay here."

Downstairs Rus is still looking at the Pensieve. "He doesn't accept it, he says thank you, but no. I on the other hand say thank you."

With a confused look he says, "It's not for you."

"I know. But I'm taking it, with thanks, and will be looking at it with my lover who still doesn't want anything to do with you."

"I see," he nods. "You enjoy it."

"I will, thank you again." I pick it up and head towards the stairs.

"No, thank you."

Rolling my shoulders I say, "I'm not doing this for you, Rus. But, you're welcome. Thank you for trying."

In my room I see you playing with Maphaltha, you trail a string back and forth in front of her. "You got it?"

"Yes." I place it on the bed just as Maphaltha jumps on the string.

"Look with me?"

"You sure?"

"I want you to. Want some company." You take my hand and lean into the dish. You pull me with you as you fall. And then we're in front of a card catalogue in a library. You start to look through it and laugh. "Remus… it's cross referenced by date, mood, observer, and participants… 'Sirius and James have a fight, fisticuffs ensue, Lily laughs, Remus disdainfully ignores everyone. Everyone gets laid. Warning for drug use and adult suggestions. Positive point for Peter being absent.' Drugs and adult suggestions? Let's watch that."

"You sure you want to show me this? I won't be offended if you want to keep them for yourself."

"Yeah." You read the card and start to walk down a row, watching the numbers go down. Pausing you pull out a book and as you open it we are pulled into the Gryffindor common room.

Your mother is lying on the couch. Her head is in your father's lap, Sirius is sitting on your father's feet, and Remus is on the chair across from them reading. Sirius gets out a gillyweed joint and lights it.

"In the common room?" Remus whines.

"Loosen up," your father says.

"I'm a fucking prefect."

"If you're offended just don't look. If you don't see it you don't have to report it." Your mother takes the joint an inhales. "We have two months left."

"I don't want to leave," your father whines. Your mother leans up to blow smoke into his mouth before passing it to him. Exhaling several moments later your father says, "I love you. What was I saying before Remus acted like a stuck up prat? Oh! CCR did more in their seven albums than your precious Zeppelin ever will. And their new one, Presence, or whatever, is bollocks."

Sirius starts to punch his leg hard and your father starts kicking in retaliation. Your mother laughs, her head bouncing in your father's lap.

You father continues to kick Sirius even as he hand over the joint and Remus pretends to keep reading even as he reaches out to snag it and take a deep hit before handing it back. Hi eyes never flicker from the page as his mutters. "Fucking stoners. I hate my friends, all lay abouts."

You watch them all with a smile, laughing along with them. Your mother sits up slightly and says, "Poser purebloods talking about Muggle music."

"CCR or Zeppelin?" asks Sirius.

"Well, for crown and country I say Zeppelin," your father looks horrified but she holds up a finger, "but for my fiancé and taste I say Credence Clearwater."

Your father crows and pulls her up for a kiss. "Bed?" he asks.

Nodding she sits up and pulls him to stand, "Night, boys."

"Silencing spell!" Remus calls after them. "If we have to listen one more time…"

Sirius crawls to him, taking one last hit off the joint before throwing it into the fire. Putting his hands on Remus' knees, he blows the smoke into Remus' mouth. Knocking the book out of his lap Sirius says, "Let's just be louder."

"Rock on."

Your still smiling as they walk out and I say, "Wanna follow?"

"And listen to all of my adults having sex? No. Let's go back, I'm calmer now… I should thank Severus, shouldn't I?"

"No, no, you don't need to. Dinner is soon."

"Yeah, I'm calm enough for that." You take my hand again and I feel us slide upwards and into my room. "That was excellent." You pet the cat happily.

"Your parents were doing drugs and having sex."

"They were happy."


	19. 19

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 19/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Neville and Blaise both man-up.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

* * *

Walking into the dining hall is terrifying. But there aren't too many people there so it could be worse. The Gryffindors look up and there is are mixed reviews in their faces, some look worried and I assume that they are reacting to the papers, others look angry and I assume it's because of my words to Ron or maybe it's the fact that you're holding my hand. But it is quite clear that none of them want to be near me.

We sit down at the far end, ignoring house tables as it's the hols, and I start to fill my plate. I pretend I am hungry, I pretend that I am stoned, that I was smoking with my parents. I think that maybe I should look up the bands Dad and Sirius were fighting over. You rest a hand on my knee under the table. And Neville comes over to us and sits down. "Neville? Are you sure-"

"Shut up," he cuts me off.

"Nev," I say softly, "Everyone is staring at you. It's okay, just go."

"No."

"You can pretend I said something rude about your Gran."

"You would never say something about my Gran. Now hand me the mashies." He cuts himself a slice of steak and kidney pie and then hands off the dish to you. He puts a large lump of mashed potatoes on his plate and starts to dig in just as Blaise Zabini sits down on your other side.

"I thought you were going home?" you say.

Smiling he says, "Miss the fireworks? Potter falls out with Weasley and you fall into his bed? Please." He doesn't mention the paper and I see that he is trying to be as normal as possible and still reach out the hand of friendship. "Neville, would you please pass the brown sauce?"

These are possibly the first civil words exchanged between a Slytherin and Gryffindor outside of a classroom in recent memory. The follow up exchange of, "of course," and, "thanks," is no less bizarre.

"So what shall we do this afternoon?" asks Neville.

"Go to the library and do our work so we can muck about for the rest of break," suggests Blaise and it's a good idea. The library won't require much talking. And, as hard as our friends are trying, this is still awkward.

"Good call," Neville agrees and then he starts talking about the latest Quidditch drafts. The conversation flows and I'm not expected to join in. It's a good thing, I don't follow it. There is talk of revising for N.E.W.T.s, post school plans. I think of gillyweed, bands I've never heard of, and where we should sleep tonight. Your hand massages my thigh as you talk animatedly to Neville and Blaise. I eat mechanically and wonder if I am being rude. But I assume that they will believe it's because my family has been attacked.

The afternoon goes by quickly, the library is quiet and we only ask to borrow one another's books and if anyone understands such-and-such point. We're all done by tea time. And, once again we are in the main hall this time eating a Sunday roast with all the accoutrements.

Afterwards, you ask silently in my head, just outside of my shields, "Would you like a little time with Neville? We can meet up at Dad's later? You can talk to your friend for a while." I nod and aloud you say, "Blaise, can I borrow that book from you?"

Nodding Blaise says, "Sure." He pauses and then adds, "Neville it was so nice to talk to you today. I think this break is going to be good fun."

Neville smiles in reply and as you and he stand to leave Neville says, "Upstairs?"

"Completely."

He and I walk quickly and, once in our dorm room, Neville says, "How are you doing?"

"I'm," I flop back onto my bed. "Merlin, I'm lost."

"I heard what you said to Ron." I feel myself pale. "And I'm honored that you consider me a real friend, Harry. I can't imagine what the war was like. But I never really thought your friendship with him was all that healthy… what about your family?"

Sitting up I say, "Can I tell you a terrible secret that doesn't go beyond this room? That not even Kingsley knows even though he covered up for it?" He nods and I cast a silencing spell. "You know my family never liked me?" He nods. "They abused me." He nods again. "Not in the past, Nev, right up until now. And my uncle wanted me to go home. So Draco cast a protection spell on me in case he tried to hurt me. There wasn't some Death Eater at the house. It was me, the spell, Draco." I breathe out and it feels so good, to tell someone because I want to, to tell him, and not because he just found out.

He thinks for a moment, mulls it over and says, "I'm so glad because I wasn't sure how to word my condolences when I knew you didn't like them."

"Thanks, for not trying."

"Well, I assumed you didn't run away from the school just because you wanted to see Remus."

"Nev, are you angry about Draco? You were great all day today but-"

"We each need someone who understands and loves us. I'm going to ask Luna to marry me in the Spring. I won't hold her to her answer until she's done with school but I want her to know that I love her and I would be a good husband, a good dad. You're no more angry about Luna than I am about Draco. It's not your relationship to Luna or mine to him that matters. You're happy."

"Wow, she'll say yes. She loves you and you'd be a fucking great husband and father."

"Right? I know what I wanted when I was a kid, know who I wanted. And I can be that man, I can be that dad."

"You going to visit them?"

"Yeah, Gran and I will go to them for Christmas day… I'd like to bring them home but they just don't do well with it."

I nod. You don't like to talk about your parents and I don't push. "And how's your Gran?"

"Pissed that I'm not home. I tried to explain that I needed to be here for you but she keeps saying she'll be dead by next Christmas. Which is just ridiculous as she will outlive me just to prove a point."

"I'm sorry I went away after you stayed here for me."

"No, I'm just here to be standby; I'm not offended that you needed to go. And I won't be offended if you need to leave again."

We lapse into silence for a while and eventually say, "Severus Snape gave me a present today. Sort of a 'welcome to the family; sorry for being a prat' gift I think." This is only partially a lie and I don't feel badly. This is a lie to protect us both it isn't a slight. I explain the Pensieve and the card catalogue. "I only flipped through it briefly, but there's one of our mums together when they were pregnant. I don't know if you'd be interested, maybe you'd rather not know. But if you do-"

"I would love to. But let's Floo into Draco's room to avoid Snape?"

"Agreed." We Floo quickly and quietly to your room and Neville looks around.

"Draco and I have pretty much the same room."

"Really? That's weird."

"Only children in a pureblood family. It's not really that surprising that we're both spoiled rotten. But yeah," Neville glances around, "antique furniture, priceless heirlooms on the shelves, and toys."

"You want to do this?"

"Yeah."

We walk to the Pensieve and I pull him in with me. And flipping through the card catalogue I pull out the card quickly, scan the numbers and replace it. "Third row from the left." The strange thing is that the memory came from Dumbledore, but he's not a participant and I wonder if he had some sort of spyware in my parent's house. I wouldn't be surprised. The warning says, "dubiously happy." I wonder if there are more people who I could ask for memories from. Snape was working in secret and with an aim for speed. But they've only been dead for sixteen years, more people must remember them. I find the book and open it.

And we're suddenly in a kitchen, my parent's kitchen. And Neville's mother and mine are sitting at the table with cups of tea. They are both heavily pregnant. "I wonder how the boys are getting along," Mum says.

"Just because we're pregnant I don't see why we're excluded from the meeting. We're still members of the Order."

"You're supposed to be on bed rest, Alice."

"Neville kicks when I'm not upright. He's one active baby. And when I'm still he sparks me. In the womb and he's already using lightening spells. I tried to have a talk with him but I supposed he can't hear all the way in there. But talking helps, the movement inside I guess."

"Sometimes I think Harry's a squib, he hasn't done anything."

"Well, if he is a squib the prophecy isn't about him."

They're both quiet for a few moments and then my mother says, "I'm a horrible person."

I don't understand what she means but then Neville's mother says, "We both are. How wicked do you have to be to wish that your friends are killed and their baby marked? I mean, I almost resent him for showing signs of power because if he's already strong it might be a sign that he's the one who has to stand up to the bastard. And when I think about it, I feel him go still. And then I worry that my thoughts will cause him to hide his powers, push them inside, to please me. I don't want it to be Harry."

"I don't want it to be Neville."

"But if it isn't Neville it's Harry, and that's too much. I know, Lil, I've been thinking it too. Maybe we're just good mothers."

"Happier subjects: is Dr. Spock right about SIDS?"

Neville's mother laughs, "Happier indeed!"

"Well anything is better than the bloody prophecy."

"'Bloody'?" Neville's mother repeats. "That has to be the tamest language I've ever heard from you."

"I'm worried about imprinting. Me effing and blinding with him in there. What if his first words are, 'Fucking-A, man,' I'll be so ashamed."

"I hate to go back to it. But whoever the prophecy isn't about…"

"Yes?"

"The boys should be friends. Isn't this proof that they'll be similar? I mean, they're already bound to one another."

"Yes, I'll tell Sirius that I want them to have play dates, that you and Frank have a special place."

"I'll do the same with Augusta."

The world pauses and Dumbledore's voice comes from nowhere, "I should point out that Mrs. Longbottom contacted your aunt many times but of course your aunt would hear of no such thing."

Their conversation turns to mundane things, supper, when our fathers will be home, the pains of child birth which gets quiet graphic. Eventually our fathers come in and there's stew and conversation about the meeting.

"Harry?" I hear you call and then you're by my side. You look at the scene then see Neville and say, "Oh, I'm sorry, I should go."

"No," Neville says quickly. "Stay, it's alright." You look concerned and Neville says, "You are in no way implicated by what your aunt did. No more than I am responsible for the fact that my father put your great-uncle Azkaban."

"But my great-uncle deserved it."

"Perhaps, but the point is that we are not our families."

Our fathers throw pieces of bread at one another, catching them in their mouths and our mothers reprimand them for childishness and do they want their boys to behave like that? Neville's father announces that he's going to teach us how to spit and Dad says that he's going to show us how to pick up girls and both our mothers roll their eyes. The memory concludes with Neville's parents saying goodnight and leaving after cheek kisses and hugs.

Neville yawns and says, "Bed would be good, they're right." We move up and are out of the Pensieve. "Thank you, Harry. That was great. I think I might ask my Gran for one of these. It's amazing. Anyway, I'll leave you both. Goodnight."

"Night, Nev." I say, "If I find anything else I'll let you know. And if you want to watch it again, alone, just say so."

"Thanks. See you at breakfast." And he's going to the Floo and we are alone.

And looking at the Pensieve I say, "Do you mind if I take out memories? A lot of memories."

You shake your head, "Whatever you like."

And I put my wand to my forehead and start taking out great lumps. I remove them in chunks and it feels good to put them into the dish. I feel the smile slip onto my face, feeling easy and happy.


	20. 20

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 20/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Harry has no memories so Draco takes care of him.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

Your face slips into a lax state of happiness and I say, "Harry?"

"Hey, Draco, how are you?"

"I'm good." You move the Pensieve from the bed and start to strip.

"I don't remember anything. Did we have a good day?"

"Yeah, we did. Nothing?"

"Neville was here, we were talking about our parents. His dad taught us to spit. I can't believe my parents are in Bali for Christmas."

Your mind has explained away the gaps and our situation. "Yeah," I agree and you're naked in front of me.

"Has our good day been too tiring for this?" You ask and it's dripping with sex. This mind, this you, doesn't think of sex as being anything but fun. So I strip quickly and slide up onto the bed. This is how you wanted to be. You wanted to be this easy, free person and I'm not going to turn you down. You follow me, sliding easy and happily onto me. I cast a quick silencing spell and you laugh, "Gonna make me scream?"

"In all the best ways, love you."

"Love you," you straddle my hips and kiss me long and slow. "Glad we get to spend this Christmas together. I love this time of year."

I stroke up your flanks, "Tell me what feels good."

"Stop thinking, don't ask, you know what to do." You arch against me and bury your face in my shoulder, you bite lightly at me and I jump slightly, "See how good it is not to think?"

"Harry-"

"Can I take you?"

"God yes." And you move off to my side and start stroking me.

"Open your legs for me? Let me in. It'll be so good." And you push my legs apart and open me fast, with care and strength. It's different from before because you're sure and it's strenuous, athletic sex. It's amazing and I'm shaking. In my ear you pant, "Okay?"

I can't speak, just nod and meet your thrusts. And it's over too soon, you kiss over my shoulders, clavicle, up my neck and face as I just hold you close. "Not thinking," I agree and you nuzzle me. You come and stroke me until I come on your stomach.

"I hate to say it," you almost laugh, "But I'm going to fall asleep on you." You slide off of me again and then pull me close. I'm quiet and you say, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"It was new."

"Bad new?"

"No, no, I'm going to watch you for a little while, go to sleep."

"Watch me? Since when do you watch me?"

The question is so ridiculous that I say nothing. "I'll just stay awake for a little while. Just go to sleep." You doze off and I stay there. You are so relaxed and your eyes flutter in dream, happy dreams, you murmur and cuddle closer. Too soon I follow you.

As I struggle back up you say, "Shh, I'm going to get us a cuppa. Go back to sleep." I do as I'm told and then feel the bed depress. "Tea?" you ask close to my ear and I wake up again. "I just had the strangest interaction with Snape. I know he doesn't like me but it was odd, he was watching me as I put the kettle on. I said good morning and he just nodded."

"You haven't put your memories back have you?"

"Should I?"

"It would probably help with understanding."

"But why would I remove them?"

"Because they're horrible and you wanted a good night's sleep."

"So why should I put them back?"

"Because you need them for the day. And maybe, once we leave school, you won't need them. But you need to put them back. I'll be right here the whole time."

You kiss me slowly, "Just in case… Maybe I'm angry, maybe you're covering. Maybe I took them out because we were fighting and I wanted to forget because I can't Floo Mum about it."

"Maybe, but if that's it I'll stay for you to fight with."

"Good." You sigh, pick up your wand and start replacing your memories. As you go you become more and more gray. Eventually you flop back and say, "I thought it was because my parents were in Bali."

"I'm sorry, Harry." I move to sit next to you and you pull me close. You curl into my lap your head resting on my knees. "Pensieve?"

"In a minute. Just want to stay here for a moment."

I reach for the tea and hold out your mug. "Tea can fix pretty much anything." You take a long gulp and I put it back on the bedside. "That didn't fix anything."

"No, but it was worth trying." You sit up. You pull me to the basin.

"Harry, I'm naked." I'm also sore but I don't mention that.

You must see it though as you say, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, it was really good. This is just a little… limping. Don't worry about me. Still naked though."

"They can't see you. And this way I can stroke your skin."

You sound desperate so I ask gently, "You sure you want to get me hot while watching your parents?"

"It might make it fun."

"If you're sure." We're in the library again and we both open drawers of the card catalogue.

"'Sirius and Peter have a fist sight. Peter ends up bleeding.' No, I don't want Wormtail."

I read a different one out to you. "'Lily cooks a truly horrible curry, Remus and Sirius choke it down. They have a dance party and drink too much.' What about that?"

"Yeah, cool, number?"

We find the book and are back in your parents' kitchen. You mother looks better rested. She meets Remus and Sirius at the door. "Thank God! I've been so lonely!" She says ushering them inside.

"Why didn't you go with him?" asked Sirius as he kisses her cheek and holds out a bottle of wine.

"The Potters are just so… staid. Besides, I've been married for two months and I haven't had a minute by myself."

"And so you got lonely and had to call reinforcements," said Remus producing a second bottle of wine and again, kissing her cheek.

"I cooked." Remus and Sirius exchange a look and she says, "No, I've been practicing. And if it's the same as always we do have two bottles of plonk."

"Hey, that's not plonk they cost two Galleons."

Your mother looks confused, "That's six pounds."

"Still converting after all these years," Remus shakes his head. "Yeah, six pounds, and that's collective so we might have to mix some sugar in to make it drinkable. Now," he claps his hands, "Where's this culinary master piece? I'm starving."

Your mother starts to dish out food as Remus uncorks the wine and Sirius goes to a machine. "What's that?" I ask.

"It's a record player."

I'm about to ask what it does but then music starts to play and Sirius starts to dance, "Is that how Muggles listen to music?"

"Not since the eighties, but yes." You say and you take my hand. You pull me back against you, my back to your chest. "Isn't this great?"

It's so simple, a casual dinner, and you look happy and relaxed, and rested, even after replacing your memories and being hit with it. The curry smells horrible as your mother ladles it onto plates. Remus and Sirius exchange a look even as Sirius keeps dancing. "If it's horrible you don't have to eat it." She bops to the music and says, "Do you miss him too, Sirius? I thought you hated CCR."

"Don't tell him," Sirius laughs. And starts to sing, "I hear hurricanes a-blowing. I know the end is coming soon." He pulls Remus to him and keeps dancing.

"I like it, maybe Dad's right. But I haven't heard the other band." You start to bop a bit even as your hands rest on my hips.

As they sit down Remus pours out wine. Taking a sip he says, "That's not the least bit horrible." And then he picks up his fork saying, "Thank you, Lil, for cooking." And then he takes a bite. He chews slowly and swallows. "Oh, wow, delicious." He takes another bite. Raising his glass he says, "To the chef!" Sirius takes a bite, nods, and raises his glass.

Your mother smiles and takes a bite, her eyes widen. She chews and swallows and says, "That is fucking disgusting. Remus, you've taken three bites."

"I thought maybe you wouldn't notice."

Sirius spat his back onto the plate. "I wasn't sure how long I could chew without swallowing."

"My God, it tasted fine when I was cooking."

"I think the milk, you added it at the end, yeah?" asks Remus. She nods, "It was off, Lil. And I think the sour milk mixed with something citrus."

"I thought the orange would make it lovely and sharp. God… we have cake. And cheese and crackers and I made some really good pickle, actually good, I know how to do that."

They start pulling out the new food and move into the sitting room. There they put on a different record and Lily says, "Oh and now the Zeppelin plays."

They eat cheese and crackers and Remus and Sirius genuinely praise the pickle. They turn up the music and finish the wine. They eat the cake and dance and finally your mother says, "Merlin I'm drunk. Will you stay tonight? House is too big without him." Remus and Sirius start to pick up plates and your mother just laughs, "Leave it, leave it. I'll do it in the morning… God, would one of you help me up the stairs? I'm too drunk to get to bed."

Sirius wraps his arm around her waist and helps her up the stairs. "Remus and I will sleep over and in the morning we'll have a big fry up and James will be home in the afternoon. And that was good pickle. And you made an admirable attempt at a curry."

Remus picks up the plates and starts to wash them in the sink as the memory fades. You say, "I'm ready for breakfast, thank you for coming with."

"Can I put on clothes?"

You laugh throatily. "Yeah," were standing in my room again, "yeah, get dressed." You sit on the bed and watch me as I pull on robes.

"The memories, they really soothe you don't they?"

You nod, "They make me happy. I think you're right. I think they wouldn't hate me… for what I did. I think they'd still love me. Because they understood. The war was going on, all that time. But they made the best of it. They were happy. They would understand. You do what you have to, right?"

They were happy, it's true. The war raged but they had each other. You didn't have them. They would have understood. "Yeah, good, I'm glad. They loved you."

"They did. And they loved each other." I'm finally dressed and you say, "Are you ready? I want eggs." You blush suddenly, "I tried to be friendly with Snape." I start to laugh but you say, "Don't, God, what do I do?"

"Just go back to ignoring him. Focus on the eggs."

"I think I need to talk to him, seriously. After breakfast."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'll come back here and join up with you for our plans for the day."

"You don't want company?"

"No, it'll be okay."


	21. 21

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 21/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Secrets will out.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

The eggs were delicious as were the fried bread, the sausage, the tomato. Smirking you said, "Fry up?" And I just laughed.

But now I look up to I catch Snape's eye. And, just outside his mental shields I ask, "Can we talk at the house once you're done?" He nods and stands to leave. I squeeze your thigh as I stand, "Two aside Quidditch?" You nod. "See you soon. I'm going to check in on Kreacher."

I walk to the house quickly, not wanting to put it off. And inside I walk directly up to him and say, "Professor, I would like to thank you for your very kind gift." He opens his mouth but I shake my head. "Please let me speak. I am going to take it in this manner: you are the professor who didn't like me. It is not an apology. And we are going to be polite and kind to one another for Draco's sake."

"Mr. Potter-"

"To be quite frank, that you know makes me feel ill. So I will not accept the Pensieve as an apology. I will take it as a sign that you wish to forge this weird relationship. And so, please call me Harry and accept that in the mornings I might not have any of my memories and will be too friendly." I see the shock in his face, a rare emotion from your godfather. "What?"

"I thought you were doing some very frightening mind game the likes of which I haven't seen since the war."

"Is that why you didn't accept the tea? Did you think I was challenging you?"

"I did, yes. I thought I looked a coward in not taking it but I assumed it was better to play the coward than drink tea with poison in it."

"I took out an awful lot of memories out to sleep. So in the mornings I might be like that; take the tea."

"If I call you Harry you must call me Severus outside of class."

"Alright, okay, Severus. Are we good?"

"We're quite clear, Harry."

"Thanks, good. Um… I'm going to meet up with the others." Outside, walking across the lawn I shout, "Accio broom."

It whizzes through the sky from the castle and I hear Hagrid behind me, "Ye coul' take someone's 'ead off like that, 'Arry."

I grab it as it approaches and turn saying, "I suppose I could. How's Kreacher?"

"'Ow are you doin'?"

I expected the question but I still have to breathe through my nose while answering. "I'm just enjoying the lovely weather and new snow. May I see him?"

"Course, 'Arry."

I follow him inside and see Kreacher sitting in a small bed. "Master," he sits up.

"Kreacher, relax. I just came to see you. How are you feeling? Be honest, please." I crouch down next to him.

"I am feeling quite better. Hagrid has been giving me medication. And the mediwitch is growing me a new liver. Hagrid says I have to stay here for another month."

"Do as he tells you and rest. Alright? And send word if you want anything. Anything. Understand?" He nods. "Good." I pull a small package out of my pocket. "Happy Christmas." He looks at it, worried. "It's not clothes, I promise."

"I don't have a gift for you, Master."

"You're health will be my present." Kreacher takes the package and opens it. And there in a gold frame is a small picture of Regulus. He's smiling and waving. "I found it is Sirius' room. I figured you wouldn't have it as you hate going in there."

He strokes his long finger over the face. "Thank you, Master."

"You rest now, sleep." I straighten back up.

He nods, "Happy Christmas. And, Master, I was very pleased to hear about your family but I'm sorry about the articles." I hear Hagrid gasp.

"Thank you. That how all of my friends are wording their condolences. 'Sorry you're all over the paper and sorry I'm pleased it happened.' So thank you." I turn to the door and go quietly, with a small smile to the still-shocked Hagrid.

I walk towards the pitch and can see you flying far above. As I get beneath you I call up, "Which team am I on?" I mount and fly up towards you.

"Mine," Blaise says. "And they've already scored twice."

We play for hours, right through dinner until past dark. We don't use the bludgers, and we all play catcher and keeper. It's a fast paced game. When I finally see the snitch it's just above your head. I surge towards you. You look around but not up. And as I reach you, I touch your face and draw you in for a slow kiss even as I covertly reach above you and grab the snitch. We're sweaty, panting into one another's mouth.

Breaking away you laugh breathily, "I thought you'd seen it."

Opening my hand I reveal the snitch, now dormant, resting in my palm. "I did."

"Cheater!" shouts Neville flying towards us. "Harry, that is cheating."

"No! No, you can use any physical skill in your ken to win," Blaise argues. "Harry's tongue is physical and, if Draco's lassitude is anything to go off of, skilled. Therefore it counts."

They argue back and forth but you just lean into me and say, "That was brilliantly Slytherin." You kiss me hard and long and I nearly fall off the broom. "Love you so much it hurts," You speak into my mouth and the others can't hear.

But they do both groan. "Stop making out. We need to decide the winner," Blaise says.

"You guys won," you say, "Harry caught it."

"By cheating!" Neville says, "Draco, you're supposed to be on my team."

"Yeah but he really beat me." You laugh, "Is it almost supper?"

"After quick showers," I agree.

"I'm not showering with you," says Neville quickly. And it hurts. Does he honestly think either of us would be scoping him out? Does he think so little of me? Then he adds, "I really don't want to watch you have sex." That's fair and probably accurate. Because you smell so good.

"You two take the Gryffindor showers." I say.

And you grab my hand and we practically run to the Slytherin dressing room. I hear them both laughing behind us but I don't care. I don't care if they know I love you and the way you make me feel. And we strip each other so quickly. The shower turns itself on and I pull you under the spray, kissing your mouth and holding your hips. You begin to fall to your knees but I pull you back up by the elbows.

"You all right?" You ask.

"I can't return the favor."

"I don't mind."

"But-"

"No, I like the way you taste, the way you feel in my mouth. Do you like it? The way it feels?"

"Yeah, yeah, I like it."

"Then let me? Okay? I like it and you like it. And you don't need to do it. I don't mind. I don't want you to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"Okay."

And it's fast because we're worked up from the game, the others are waiting, and we both want to get to supper. I'm coming almost before it registers. You stand and start washing me as I stroke you to climax. You slump your head on my shoulder and saying, "They're probably waiting for us." You sound sad.

"Food," I say turning off the shower and using drying spells on us both. "Draco?" I ask softly and you hum in response. "This is the best Christmas hols ever. Thank you."

"You do not need to thank me. This is great, I'm loving every minute."

"Blaise is really nice."

"Not everyone in my house is a loser… you can spend more time in my common room, you know, after the break. It might be nicer, warmer in yours but the company is lacking, Neville can come too."

"I'll keep that in mind."

We pull on clothes and see that our friends are, indeed, waiting. You hurriedly apologize and we go up to the castle as a group and I get the feeling that they waited so that they could guard us. We trudge through the snow laughing and I wasn't lying this is the easiest, nicest, most relaxed break ever. As we enter the castle I see a visibly upset Severus Snape.

"Don't go inside; go directly to Grimmauld Place; stay there; leave now."

"Rus?" you ask.

"Go," he says but I brush by him.

Whatever it is we can deal with it. Crossing bridges, right? But as we enter I see exactly why he didn't want us to. I grab a copy of the Evening Prophet from the closest person and just scan it. The headline reads: "An In-Depth Look at Harry Potter by Rita Skitter". I see that she admits to being an unregister animagus. It flashes through me as a I read "rape" and "physical attack on Voldemort" and "shame" and "pain" and your name and the Pensieve and Ron's name, and Neville's, and Remus'. It's not even a regular edition of the paper, it's one solid essay. There are pictures of us in bed, of my scars, my tattoo, of fucking everything.

Turning to you I say, "I wanna do that thing we did in the war."

"With an audience?" Your voice sounds broken.

"I don't care. Please."

You pull me over to one of the tables and I kneel in front of you as you sit down, "Give me the facts," your voice is soft but stronger. You settle one hand one my shoulder and one on the top of my head and keep eye contact with me. I drop all of my blocks for you. And I can feel that you keep many of yours up. I see Ron and Remus walking in and realize that they must have flooed.

"I know that she must have used concealment charms as well as her bug form because we would have noticed."

You make a soft assenting noise. And then shake your head, "Stop." You say and I follow your command because even though I want this I'm willing to let you get every base covered.


	22. 22

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 22/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: We finally see that thing they did during the war.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

I turn to the room and say, "I need complete silence. And for everyone to stay away." I run my hand through your hair to try and calm you. "Weasley, what do you want?"

Ron just looks at me scared, and sad, and contrite. "I want to do whatever is most useful to you."

"Okay, good enough. I want you to keep everyone silent, use whatever spells you've got going. Alright?" He nods. "Good. Blaise, Nev, I need you on either side of me. Anyone who approaches us, you need to incapacitate. I'm giving you cart blanche on how to do it. Remus I need you to just remain calm, we're going to be coming with you soon." I turn back to you and smile warmly. I need to remain calm too because what we're about to do is dangerous as fuck. I focus wholly on you, on your mind and prepare to take everything you say into my mind and make it my own thought because that way I can meld our brains into one. "Go," I say.

"I know that she's in this room to get a follow up. I know that Dumbledore has realized that all ready. But no matter what he does she's going to get out and print it. And the Prophet will print it because they're unscrupulous. I know that the fine for being an unregistered animagus is fourteen thousand galleons but they will throw her into Azkaban. I know that it will be an overreaction but that no one will speak up for her. I know that some people will actually be secretly pleased with what they read. I know that well meaning people will stop trying to touch me in the street. I know that I never even considered this happening. I know that, even with the full account of me brutally killing Voldemort, Kingsley will stop being scared of me. I know that that is a good thing. I know that Remus vomited before coming here. I know that I never told him because there was nothing he could do and not because he would judge me for it. I know that Dumbledore probably wouldn't have done much if he knew because I needed to stay there for the blood protection. I know that he most certainly would have looked at me differently.

"I know that we're going to go home soon to my room and that you'll keep me safe. I know that the war is over but it will never be over. I know that you'll read me the whole paper once I'm under because that way I can process it without horror. I know we're going to order pizza tonight. I know that you will keep me under as deeply as possible and will give me as much time as you can. I know how painful this is for you and that I will sleep as much as possible to give you a break. I know that I never wanted to be Harry Fucking Potter. I know that I want Sirius here because I miss him. I know that there is nothing he could do. I know that you will talk to Remus for me, just as you did with Severus. I know that it isn't your responsibility. I know that we will find a way to deal with this together. I know that you will get the Pensieve for when I have to wake up. I know that this doesn't change anything between us. I know that you're livid and keeping it from your mind to protect me. I know that Ron and Hermione will forgive me even though what I said to him was horrible and I meant every word. I know that they will try harder and that I don't really want them to but it's inevitable. I know that this was supposed to be my secret. I know we're going to escape to the Muggle world after school because there's no other option. I know that the idea of that scares you and excites you in equal parts. I know that people will say horrible things to you and that they are wrong. I know that you love me and that I love you and that anyone who disagrees can go fuck themselves. I know… I'm slipping." You're eyes go blank. And I can finally look away because the connection is so strong it doesn't need a visual link, just my hand on you. Your eyes can only see blackness now.

Leaning in I whisper, "Go as deep as you like, I have you. It's going to be okay. We're going home in a minute, just let me get this sorted." You vaguely nod. "You're doing so well, just drift, you don't have a problem in the world right now, so drift." You kiss my mouth and it's gentle and not desperate. "I love you too."

Inside my head I hear you ask, "Am I okay? Am I injured? Why are we doing this?"

"You're perfect. No injury, just stress."

"I do love you."

"It's going to be okay." I speak aloud as well as in your head because it's easier for you to process it like that. I slide my hand from the top of your head to your neck and rub gently. Looking up I say, "Okay, Remus. You can talk. Can we go with you?"

"What the fuck have you done to him?" he says. And I can't really explain. His using language in the school is shocking.

Dumbledore says, "No one's been able to pull that off since before Christ."

"What is it?" repeats Remus.

"Draco has completely subdued his mind. It's amazing, no one can do that. Where did you learn it?"

"Subdued?" Remus repeats. "What are you doing?"

I ignore the question and address Dumbledore. "We didn't learn it. We made it up." He looks agog. "Read the paper. There was nothing we couldn't figure out during the war. We found dozens of ways to cope. And one of them was to turn off and let the other deal with it for us. We were kids in the middle of very bloody battle fields. You put us there. You and your Order of the Phoenix. And no one rose from the ashes. We just coped. Now, Remus, please, let's go." I rub the back of your neck and you stand. "Good, Harry, that's good." We start to walk to the door and I grab a copy of the paper off a table. "I'm going to take care of you." You nod dreamily. Remus reaches out as we come near and I stop us from moving. "Remus, I'm holding his mind. Touch either of us and you will hurt him. You'll get into his head and that's not alright because you're upset."

"You aren't?" he asks almost laughing with anxiety.

"Not in his mind, I've pushed that back. Don't touch us."

He nods and we go out into the hall. Flooing with two people is difficult but I hold you really close and you huddle into my warmth. We spin through the system and I step out into your living room. We head directly to the stairs and Remus comes through the fire and follows into your bedroom. I remove your outer robes, carefully so I can keep a hand on you. Out of the corner of my eye I see Rumus looking at your exposed lower arms and I say, "You read the paper. I'm sure it told you that I removed them. If you can't be nice and calm you should leave because I need to remain calm." You sit heavily on the bed so that I can remove your trainers. And I pull back the covers so you can climb in and I sit down next to you, still stroking your arm. "I know you want an explanation," I say to Remus, "But wait until he's asleep." He nods silently. "Love, you can go to sleep." I realize it's the first time I've used an endearment instead of your name. And the knowledge of that hurts unreasonably. I feel you slip away. And once you're fully asleep I let go of your arm because you're meant to drift while asleep.

I sigh and put my head in my hands and after a few deep breaths I look up at Remus and say, "Alright, Harry never told you or anyone else because he was afraid of looking weak. And if someone knew it would make it that much worse, that much more real. He never told anyone."

"He told you," Remus says.

"No, he didn't. He never told me. I stalked him, Remus, I figured it out. And he knew that I knew. He wasn't sure how much I knew but he was sure I had a good idea and… well he didn't like me so it was easier. Because having someone you dislike know your secret is a lot easier to cope with than having someone you care for have to know. During the war," my voice fails and I look away. "We kept each other safe and we killed people and we did this mind meld thing that's apparently ancient and impossible. And we worked as a team just to get through it. And he had to tear that creature apart and we didn't speak again. Not until he called me out on the fact that I was still stalking him."

"So what changed?"

"Um… I told Severus I was scared. Harry was so angry, and clearly getting more and more angry, about everything and I was scared about how badly he was hurting himself. So I told Severus to try to get advice, but instead he was cruel, and Harry got mad at me… and he got ill and slept in my bed. I'm sure the newspaper goes into much more graphic detail… but he was mean to me, kind of used me, or tested me, or something. And then he said he loved me but that his scar would kill me so I removed them all. We slept in the Gryffindor tower, got caught by Ron who shouted. We went to breakfast he got a letter from his uncle saying to come home. I went with him and effectively tortured and killed all the men who had ever touched him. We came here, you thanked me for doing it, and I think you know the rest."

"I don't want the newspaper's version. How did he test you?"

I feel myself blush hard but I know that if I don't answer he'll ask you later. "He said that he wanted me to make love to him. And we did. And he freaked out afterwards because he'd expected it to hurt, for me to hurt him, he thought I would hurt him and he wouldn't be in love with me anymore. So I ended up bleeding and crying in a hallway and he told me about his theory about his scar so I removed it. And all the rest of them. He wanted me to give him a new one, a new mark. But I couldn't do that. So I gave him the tattoo which only he can remove. And it was good. We were good and it was getting better. He doesn't hate his body, and likes sex, and is making real friends, and has the Pensieve, and he was happy. And we made this plan to spend the night in a nice hotel after dinner on Christmas Eve because he hates Christmas and it was going to be fun and relaxed. Swimming pool, room service, the whole works for a night. Now he's lying in a voluntary coma because people can't stop watching him."

"But you're enjoying this." He sounds so sure and I don't understand what he means. It shows on my face and he says, "You're in complete control of him." I feel myself go cold as he speaks. "You were stalking him and now you're actually controlling him."

"Get out."

My words are so quiet that I'm not surprised when he asks, "What?"

"Get out of this room."

"I-"

"No, no. You accuse me of using my boyfriend whose mind I'm holding. Get out. Because even now that I'm not touching him we're linked and if I start freaking out he's going to feel it. He's supposed to be on vacation from this hell. So get the fuck out of here. I've given you as much of an explanation as you deserve." I ignore him as I pull off my shoes and robes and move to be under the covers with you. You instantly curl into me and I stroke your hair gently, relax against you. I hear the door shut with a click behind the man.

He doesn't understand it. He doesn't realize that I'm walking across on a precipice and I'm holding you in my arms, and if I slip, you'll die. I like that you trust me so much you can trust me to do this. But doing this? It sucks, Harry. You're so deep inside of you and I'm carrying all your anxiety and mine. And it all hurts, like fire in my head but I have to keep it back behind shields in my inner mind. And the mind that I'm projecting to you is calm, happy, relaxed. It has to be, you're depending on it. If Remus pisses that part of my brain off you will feel it like a physical pain. By taking away your anxiety I've also taken away your coping mechanisms.

I slip into my own mind and join you in your sleep. And we're so connected that I slide into your dream and you smile at me. I'm still awake, aware of our surroundings but your sleep makes me feel relaxed. "Is it okay?" you ask softly. "You felt sad."

"Sorry, love. I didn't mean to. Did I hurt you?"

I see that we are by the Hogwarts' lake. It's midsummer and you're in jeans and a t-shirt. I am in light summer robes.

"Calling me love now?" Your smile grows. "Must be bad out there. Brought you a book," you say and I see that it's one of the Muggle fiction books I bought. "Don't worry; I used magic. It's got the real story."

"Come sit under the tree with me," I say and take your hand. As we sit you instantly lie on your back and put your head in my lap.

"This okay?" you ask looking around.

"Perfect, Harry."

"No one's ever used an endearment before; I liked it. You can do it if you like."

"It's perfect, sweetheart. Great weather, baby. Nice dream, darling." You laugh and lean up to kiss my mouth.

"Swear I'm not injured?"

"I promise. Once I wake up I'm going to tell you all about it, get it deep inside so you can study it without thinking about it."

"Will you make love to me when you wake up?"

"No," I say firmly.

"Why not?"

"Because it's too close to necrophilia. You have to be awake for us to have sex. Sorry but it's creepy. The minute you wake up. Promise. Can't do it."

"But I'm asking," you protest.

"I know you're asking but I really don't want to. Don't ask me for that, please don't."

"Okay… you awake right now?"

"Yeah, just came for a visit."

"So you're talking out loud? I hope Remus isn't in the room. Because that would be weird."

"Don't worry about him. Are you still hungry?"

"Fucking ravenous. Pizza?"

"Yeah, stay asleep because I need to get out of bed to ask Remus to order and I need to call Severus to get you your Pensieve." I kiss your mouth slowly, lovingly. Your tongue conquers my mouth. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, too."

Leaving your dream I force myself out of the trance and stand slowly. I pull on a robe and go to the door. I see that Remus is sitting on the floor directly opposite your door. "Did you hear that?"

He nods, "So what do you want on your pizza?" He looks miserable and I'm relieved that he doesn't try to apologize.

"I can't eat. Just um… order him broccoli and sardines."

"You're bleeding a lot."

I look at my shoulders which are covered in drips of blood from my ears, see the blood seeping from under my nails, run a hand over my face and feel the slick, sticky blood from my eye nose and mouth and say, "It's pretty taxing on the body."

"Can I do anything?"

"Call Severus? I know you don't like him but just ask for him to bring the Pensieve."

"I meant for you."

"That is for me. I need it for him. There's not much to do about the blood."

"Okay, go back to bed. I'll bring the pizza and the Pensieve once they get here. Are you sure there's nothing else I can do?"

"Pretend everything's normal when he has to be fully aware? Don't look at him differently. He's still the same boy you've always known. You just know a lot more. And the article talks a lot about you and how he feels about you. He loves you. So just treat him like you always do."

"Okay."

"And be nice to me. I know that you don't like me much. And I know you think I'm taking advantage of him-"

"You're exactly who he needs, and who he loves, and who loves and respects him."

"I need to go back to him."

"Alright, go."

Inside I shuck off the robe and climb back into bed. You slide close to me and wrap your arms around me. You murmur and smile. Inside my head, deep in sleep, you manage to whisper, "I love you," and I know that it's wholly true.


	23. 23

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 23/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Remus and Severus talk about the boys.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

I order the pizza and then Floo Severus. "Can you bring the Pensieve?"

"How are they?" he asks. They. And I know that this was what he wanted to tell me before.

"Harry is still in the trance. Draco's bleeding from the force of it."

"Merlin. Those poor boys."

"Yeah, yeah. Can you come?"

"Of course. I'll be there in a few moments."

"Thanks. I ordered pizza if you want to stay."

"I'm not hungry but I will stay, if that's alright?"

"Of course."

"Thank you."

"Just hurry."

"Absolutely." I pull out of the fire. And grab a glass to fill with water.

Upstairs I knock on Harry's door and hear Draco say softly, "Come in."

"I just wanted to bring you a glass of water."

"Thank you that's very thoughtful of you." He looks embarrassed. "I can't take it from you directly. Even that is too much. Could you put it on the bedside?"

I do as he asks and he picks it up talking a long drink. "I called Severus and ordered the pizza. I ordered you a pepperoni one for later, just in case. Is there anything else?" I ask wanting to be useful, needing to do something.

"Don't let Severus into this room." He sounds completely calm even though I see him stiffen.

"Okay."

"He doesn't have the right to see Harry like this," he continues. "It's not fair. So keep him out."

"I can do that."

"Thanks, then we're good."

"Is he… is he awake?"

"No," he says but he's still touching Harry and I thought he would not touch Harry if he was conscious. It seems like the bleeding is worse the closer he is. As though reading my mind he says, "Even when he's asleep it's still best for us to be in physical contact. I'll wake him up once the food gets here. But um… I can only keep him under for a couple more hours."

"Of course, I mean you're already covered in blood."

He laughs a dry pained sound. "This is not bad, this is fine. I can deal with this. The longer he's under the harder it's going to be for him to come back up. In a little more than about two and a half hours it's going to be really hard for him to come back to himself."

"You used to do this during the war?"

"Not like this. We used to just, remove emotions?" he sounds like he'd guessing or trying to explain something impossible. "One of us would get overwhelmed while planning out the next battle and the other would just calm them down. We would just take the other's emotions away. I mean, we didn't go deep; we were always, y'know able to speak. But we just made it more bearable. We only would do it for a half hour or so because you need a half hour to recover. We never really let the other fully inside. I mean, he would have known how I felt and I would have seen everything I wasn't supposed to know. But now it's different. I mean, before this, over the last few days, we spent a lot of time in each other's mind. Not like Occlumency just sliding inside of each other's blocks. So today we took it to a whole new level. I didn't know that it's ancient. Figured anyone could do it so long as they knew mental magic. Didn't know it was difficult."

"I've read a lot about it. Didn't even recognize it because I thought it was impossible. It takes a very well organized mind and an awful lot of power."

He just shrugs and I hear a, "Hello?" being called up the stairs.

"I won't let him up here," I say and leave shutting the door behind me.

Downstairs I see Severus standing awkwardly in the foyer. "I let myself in," he says softly. He holds out the Pensieve and a small bottle, "Um, I brought a healing potion. Draco will be rather injured by the end."

"He already is."

"How much more time can he give Harry without losing him?"

"He says hours."

"Well Draco's the only one who could know."

"This is so ancient, Severus. I can't believe they just made it up themselves."

"They're both very powerful and very clever. And they were desperate." He casts his eyes away from me. "We failed them." I nod. "I know we weren't in charge but how could we be so blind? How could we not have realized?"

"We were all so eager to end the war."

"We forced children to fight it for us." I nod again. "I was so incredibly unkind to him. I basically tortured him and the article… Dumbledore ignored so much. He saw more than he told us. He saw something more and he ignored it." I nod again. "I think I might have to leave the school."

"I think the boys might."

"I should bring these upstairs," he says nodding towards the objects in his hands.

"I'm sorry. Draco doesn't want you up there."

He breathes out hard. "Of course." He holds out the Pensieve and potion. "I'll leave."

"If you don't mind… I know you don't like me very much but I could really use some company."

"Of course. I'll wait."

"Could you put the kettle on?"

"Absolutely."

I go upstairs and hear Draco reading the newspaper in a monotone voice. I knock and he stops reading, "Yeah?"

"It's me."

"Sure, come in." He's sitting up with Harry's head in his lap and the paper open in his hands. "Hey."

"Severus is here."

"Alright."

"Pizza's not." I say putting the Pensieve at the foot of the bed and the potion on the bed stand.

"That's okay. Could I maybe? Could I have a cup of tea when you get a minute?"

"Coming right up. Can you take that potion yet?" He's coated in blood and shaking slightly.

"No outside magic while this is going on." He strokes his hand over Harry's shoulder and through his hair. "I'll take it right after, don't worry… sorry, I need to read all of this to him."

"Sure, I won't interrupt you when I bring the tea."

"Thank you, Remus."

"You're the one who is saving Harry. I think that's my line." I don't shut the door fully behind me and I hear him go back to the paper. He begins to describe a picture of Harry's skin changing between scars, and clean, and tattooed. I walk slowly away feeling nauseous and angry.

In the kitchen Severus has taken out three mugs, "I assume Draco would like one?" I nod and sit down at the table. "You alright?" I shake my head.

"He's covered in blood, Draco is drenched. He's just covered in blood reading the newspaper aloud."

"Oh dear."

I gulp gratefully at the tea he hands me and grimace at the taste of sugar. Looking at the empty mug I say, "That was Draco's, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was. I should have warned you."

"It's alright, just add sugar to the other one." I rub my mouth with the back of my hand. "We need a plan don't we?"

"Should we let them make the plan?" he asks and it's the first time I've ever heard uncertainty in his voice.

"We should come up with a plan and then let them decide. I think we owe them that much."

"Yes," he nods slowly. And holds out Draco's mug. "Sorry about the sugar."

"I'll be right back." I hear Draco speaking while still on the stairs.

I open the door and he stops reading as I put the tea down. He smiles tightly, still bleeding and drains it in a few gulps. "Brilliant, ta."

"I owe you and apology. I shouldn't have said that you were using him."

"I wasn't offended by that," he swallows and continues. "I was offended by the implications that Harry would be in an abusive relationship. I was offended that you could read that paper, know what he's been through, and think that he would consider being with someone who hurt him. Can you apologize for an unintentional implication? I'm not sure. I just know that it would hurt him to know that you don't trust him to choose someone good for himself. So don't ask him if he's sure about me because it'll hurt his feelings. Before the paper he was doing really well. He was happy. So leave him be and be nice to me for his sake." I nod and he looks away from me.

I have been dismissed.


	24. 24

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 24/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Harry drifts and wakes up back to the horror.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

I'm floating and happy and warm and you're close and smell good as you speak in an even voice, it's something I don't understand but I feel it go deep into my mind. After a while you stop speaking and just hold me close. I pull myself up a little to say, "You should sleep." I know that I'm not speaking aloud but I can't do that when this deep.

I feel your chuckle in my chest, "Pizza will be here soon. You comfy?" You speak aloud and in my head and it makes me happy all over from the vibrations and the tones.

"Very, you feel like the best pillow ever."

"Are you still feeling like you're on vacation?"

"South of France."

"Good, good. The pizza's come. Can you come up a little for me? Just so you can feed yourself and not choke? Will you do that for me, please?"

I sit up slowly and open my eyes, feeling slightly more aware and can actually see through my eyes. There's an open pizza box with a large broccoli and sardines pie. "What about you?" I ask, the words are still silent and I really must be very deep.

"I'm not hungry. I just want you to eat up."

I don't take the plate you offer me just the knife and fork because the plate seems like too much trouble. I eat mechanically, not able to make myself function any other anyway without coming up more I scan myself.

"You aren't injured, sweetheart, you don't need to keep checking."

"I really do like the terms of endearment."

"Any you don't like?"

"Just don't call me your boy."

"What about my man, my lover, my Harry? Can I call you those?"

"Those are all nice, I like those. I am yours; just don't like being called someone's boy."

"You're not a possession but you are mine."

Your words make me feel bouncy inside. "Remind me why we can't have sex?"

"Well, there's a couple of reasons. You're not wholly with it so it's a little creepy."

"But we had sex when I used the Pensieve."

"You did that on purpose. You needed to be in this trance. It's different. Please stop asking."

"So what's the other reason?"

"Severus and Remus are most likely listening. And I can't cast the silencing spell when I have you under like this. And, while you can't speak right now, I bet you're still going to be really loud if we have sex."

"I could maybe do it, cast the silencing spell I mean."

"No, Harry. Just finish your pizza and go back to sleep."

"Are you okay? I mean, you're not hurting yet?" I look you over and you seem fine.

"I'm fine, Harry. I'll wake you up fully when I start hurting."

"Okay." I finish my pizza and drink the cup of tea you hand me. "You know what I like on my pizza and that I like tea with pizza not a fizzy drink or pumpkin juice. I love dating my stalker."

"Good, good."

"Can I go deeper now?"

"Yeah, just tell me the facts."

"We're gonna have a really good Christmas. I'm gonna call a fancy hotel when I wake up and get their nicest room. We're going to do nothing, we're going to eat nice food, and laze about in bed, and watch the telly, and go swimming, and not do any work, or talk to anyone, or worry about anything. A few days, rights?"

"Yeah, as long as you like, forget school. We'll just live at your hotel and eat escargot and read and have fun. With our family funds we never need to work, just live at the hotel in the lap of luxury."

"Escargot? Gross."

"You said nice food."

"Yeah, like good burgers and chips."

"Right, sorry. I forgot that you lack class."

"Haha, funny. So we forget about school and just live in the hotel, and have a lovely quiet life." I feel the world slip away as everything blacks out and I'm back far away from everything. I listen to your rhythmic breathing. There's no sound save for your breath and heartbeat, and it's so nice to be alone with you. You kiss my neck and I curl up closer to you. I know that I'm thinking about something but it's distant, drifts away from me every time I try to grasp it.

"Stop trying to think about it," you say softly, "drift."

It's amazing that I have so quickly gone from fearing having you see me to wanting to be only with you. Alone with you is the best way to be and you kiss my skin and lie silently with me. Later, when you say softly, "I'm so sorry, Harry, you have to come to," I wish it weren't so but I do as you say. It all rushes back to me. The process of coming out of the trance was usually a little wearing. But we've never gone this deep, never done it for this long, never been this upset coming out of it ever before. Then again, the war wasn't as desperate as this situation.

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I would have kept you under longer but it's been seven hours." We've never done this for more than a half hour. "You were drifting too deep: too far away. I'm so sorry." You gather me to you and rock me like a wounded child. I feel the tears on my face, silent and burdened. "It's okay, I'm right here, I'm so sorry." I push my face into your neck and you stroke the back of my head. I feel something rough against my cheek and pull back, suddenly calm.

"Drop it." I put my hands on the bed and feel them sink into invisible wetness. You're an idiot. I'd sort of forgotten about this side of the trance, I was so deep and so comfortable that the world felt perfect. "Take off the concealment."

You nod as though to calm me down. "Okay. But I think Severus and Remus are eavesdropping again and if you overreact they're going to rush in here."

I raise my voice and say, "If either of you come in here you're getting stunned out again. Now drop the charm." As the spell fades I see that the bed is soaked in blood. Long, straight wounds run up and down your body –toe to skull. Usually it was bleeding from the ears, nose, mouth, eyes or sometimes from under the nails. But you've lost pints of blood. "You should have stopped hours ago."

"You needed the rest. I only pulled you out now because of your safety. I'm fine."

I look at your wounds, partially closed, "When did you scab over?"

"When you started to wake up."

"And when did this start?"

"Like this? About an hour in. After that they just multiplied and became deeper."

"But you're fine," I sneer.

With a wince you say, "You're right, I've been bleeding and in pain for six hours so that you could turn off. So maybe you should be nice to me because I know that coming back from that state is awful and discombobulating but we're both cover in my blood. Stop telling me off."

Breathing out I say, "I'm sorry." I reach towards you but then realize that I will hurt you, that I've been hurting you for hours every time I put my weight on you. "I'll get a flannel to wash us up." I lean in a kiss you. Your mouth tastes of metal and salt. You hold my face between gentle, hurt hands. "Thank you for giving me seven hours. You're amazing and I don't deserve you but I'm gonna keep you." You laugh with a dry throat. I reach for a dressing gown and you sit up a little.

Just as I reach from my wand I remember that I can't do magic for ages after that trance. "I was going to clean the bed." There's a vial of healing potion on the bedside but it's not strong enough to do anything at all. Moving out of the bed I feel light and easy, just like I really did go on a restful holiday. "Stay still." Opening the door I see them both sitting there like idiots. "Severus, he's lost half his blood and that healing potion won't do anything useful enough to use it. Go get blood replenishers." He stays where he is, staring at me. "Why are you sitting here?" It dawns on me and I say, "For Merlin's sake, I don't want to discuss it right now: 'Boo-hoo, everyone knows,' are you satisfied now that it's been said? Draco needs blood we'll deal with the rest of it later. If he were a Muggle he'd be dead. So move." He leaves and I'm left alone with Remus. "I'm sorry. You were just a teacher; I couldn't tell you. Sirius seemed best. He was going to take me away, and then he died and I was fucked because you're a werewolf and they wouldn't have let me live with you."

Remus nods. "I'm sorry I couldn't have done anything. And I'll support you in whatever you decide to do."

"Can I have a little of your power so I can heal him? The binding spell takes up a lot of magic and then represses the rest of your power to make sure it doesn't touch the other person's. If you could give me enough to unlock mine that would be fantastic."

He puts out his hand palm up, "As much as you need. I noticed he was bleeding a little earlier but it seemed to stop. If I'd known he was using a concealment charm I would have made him wake you up."

I smile at him and shut my eyes as I touch him hand and pull out just a tiny strand of his power which kick starts my own. "Thank you." He nods at me and I pass him to go into the toilet. Seeing myself in the mirror I jump a little. I look like something out of a horror film.

"You look-" the mirror begins but I interrupt.

"I don't want to hear it." I wash my hands and face clean of blood which really just makes the rest of me look worse. I fill a large bowl with warm water and a flannel. When I come out of the loo I see Severus and Remus having a whispered fight. They break off and look at me. "What?"

"I need to see Draco to know the correct dosage." Severus seems to brace himself for me to shout.

But I just nod. "Just give me a minute. Let me clean him up a little."

"You can't heal him or use any magic on him before-"

"I know that, Severus," I speak softly, not wanting to rile him as I interrupt. "He's drenched, and I don't think he'd want you to see him this bloody. Just give me a minute. Let me wash him, give him that much." Severus nods and I go into the bedroom.

"Draco, Severus needs to take a look at you, so I'm going to clean you up."

"Har," you say, "I just want to go to sleep."

"There's more blood on the bed than in you. Just let him come in and see you." I take your hand gently and start to wipe you off. I wash up your arms with careful hands and speak softly. "I need to take off your under robe. You're getting stuck to it."

"Okay, but keep me covered while Rus is here."

"Do my best, but he does need to take a look. Then I can heal you up." I unbutton the front and gently ease your robe off your shoulders and lift your hips to slide it out from under you. I wipe the flannel over your face and down your chest and then rinse it out in the bowl. Soon the water is too bloody to be helpful so I say, "That'll do for now. Once Severus gives you the potion I can heal you and clean up this room. You ready?" You nod and I pull up the sheets over your waist. I walk to the door and open it, "We're ready, Severus."

He follows me into the room. He looks at the blood soaked bed and your saturated robe before looking at you. He walks to the bed and puts the potion on the bedside. "May I?" he asks reaching for your face. You nod and he tills your head downwards and parts your matted hair and says, "All the wounds meet up at a point."

"On the soles of his feet too," I offer.

"They get deeper on your torso."

"Well, there's more to cut into," you say.

"Hmm," Severus thinks and clearly does some mental math. He conjures up a glass and pours in a measured dose, "Drink this, wait five minutes, then once you can move Harry can heal you." He looked around the room and pulled out his wand and gave it a lazy twirl, "Scourgify." The blood vanishes from every surface, including your skin. "Once you're healed you should both go to bed. You can decide what to do in the morning."

"I have a plan, it's not a great plan, but it's a plan," I say. Then I say, "We'll talk in the morning. Draco, cup of tea?"

"That would be lovely."

I nod and head out the door, "Severus?" I ask over my shoulder.

"I'll give you a hand."

In the hallway Remus is still standing there, watching my face, waiting for an explosion. The nice thing is that while he's watching me, waiting for a freak out, he isn't looking at me like I'm a stranger. He's not looking at me in a new way just his usual worried look and _that_ I can cope with. "Remus, I'm fine, honestly. I'm not okay with people knowing but I'm okay with my past. It sucked but it's over. Now if we can just get through this, we're good to go." It is a lie and Remus probably knows that but he nods. "Thank you. What time is it?"

"About three in the morning."

"Okay, cup of tea, a few biscuits and bed."

Remus nods, "Sounds good."

In the back of my mind I hear you say, "Love, I'm starving. Grab me something?" "Pizza?" I reply silently. "Four slices," you agree. Out loud I ask, "Is there any pizza left for Draco?" Remus nods and pushes a box towards me. I levitate a plate from the cupboard and put four slices onto it. The kettle starts to come to the boil and I pull it out to warm the pot before putting it back into the fire. I slosh the hot water around the pot before pouring it out into the sink. It is all mechanical and mindless, I add the tea, wait on the water, once that boils I pour it into the pot, I put on the lid and pull on the cozy. "I'm going to bring this up to Draco. I'll be back in a few minutes, let it steep."

Behind me I hear Severus say, "Is he okay?"

"No. Not at all. Give him time," Remus responds.

I head up the stairs carrying the pizza and in the bedroom I see that you've struggled to get yourself in a sitting position. Putting the plate, knife, and fork down on the bed, I climb gingerly into your lap. Reaching out to hold your face I kiss you slowly. And running my fingers over your face and down your arms I heal the wounds I touch, intertwining our fingers I heal you silently while distracting you. I deepen the kiss and touch you everywhere and you stroke my back, getting into it, clearly feeling better. I run my fingers through your hair, over your neck, over your shoulders and back. You reach out to re-tilt my head. And as I finish healing you from the waist up I pull back and smile at you. "Much better already. Eat your pizza." I cast a quick reheating spell on the food and climb off your lap. "I'll be back in a few minutes with tea. Then I'll finish healing you." You look down at your hands and laugh, "What?"

"You're so fast I didn't even know."

"That was kind of the point." I walk out the door and feel light as I hear your laughter behind me. I've still got you, no matter what happened, I've still got you.

I smile and go down the stairs to the kitchen. Remus hands me two cups of tea and a plate of biscuits on a tray. "I don't intend on waking up early. I'm going to take some memories out of my mind and Draco's and then we're going to sleep until we're done sleeping. If you would like to use Pensieve you are welcome to it. We should all get a good night's sleep. Severus, Mr. Malfoy would probably appreciate an update. Now let's just hope no one from the Ministry decides to come here and arrest Draco for what he did to those men." I nod at them both, "Good night."

Upstairs I put down the tea and slid into bed. "Severus is talking to your dad. I get the feeling he's staying for the night. Can I heal the rest of you?"

You pull me into your lap, "Yes please." And I've figured out this healing thing, it's not in the hands: It's all in the mind. I grind down on your lap and heal the rest of your wounds without any touch but that. "Merlin, you're good. You're amazing."

"Try to be. Why don't we both take out some memories, drink our tea, and pass out."

"Do you think it's a good idea for us both to not remember?"

"I think Severus and Remus will watch us." I pick up the Pensieve and bring it to the bed. "How much do you want gone?"

"Take out everything after Quidditch this afternoon."

"That's all?"

"That's all. I can sleep with that. I like watching you. I like your stories. They make me happy."

I pick up my wand. "Relax. I'm good at this." I carefully enter your mind and pull out strands of memory and I see how painful this night has been for you. I kiss your mouth gently as I place your memories into the Pensieve. You smile brightly at me and I say softly, "Doesn't it feel good to just let go for a minute?" You nod.

I take out a lot more from my mind than from yours. And when I feel totally relaxed I put the Pensieve on the floor. I drink my tea thirstily and eat a few biscuits. "Did we have a good day?"

"Great day. We played Quidditch for hours with Neville and Blaise and then we came here for supper."

"Do you remember when we first met here?"

"Well, we were young. It's all a bit foggy."

"Sirius and your father were talking about something in the dining room. We were playing in the drawing room. We had our little wooden hippogriffs we were making them have a fight. And you broke the head off mine. And I screamed and screamed and we both got a time out. We got sent up here. Then I showed you the dumbwaiter in the hall and we got inside and went down to the kitchen to get biscuits and got back up here before they could notice. Although pulling ourselves up in the dumbwaiter was way harder than going down. We couldn't stop giggling you were positive we were gonna get caught. Maybe they knew. But I guess if we were getting along they figured we'd learned our lesson. It's been you and me ever since."

You gulp down your tea, "I'm exhausted."

I peel off my robes and climb, naked, into bed, "Me too." I kiss you hard and push you back onto the bed. "I know it's late but can we just make out a bit before we both pass out?"

"Never too tired for that." You pull my head down and kiss me demandingly. And rub against me. Your hands travel all over my body, I pinch your nipples and you jolt against me. You fuck your tongue into my mouth. You play with my hair, "I love your hair. So sexy, always look like you've just gotten out of bed." You roll us so that you push me down into the mattress. I feel so safe with your weight grounding me. And something I can't quite touch in my mind tells me I should be sad. But instead I'm simply content and tired. The tired part wins out for both of us. I yawn and you break the kiss. You start to move off me but I hold you close.

"Don't go. Stay with me. I want you close."

"Not too heavy?"

"Not at all, are you comfy?"

"Completely." You rest your head on my shoulder. I fall asleep within moments.


	25. 25

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 25/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Harry comes up with a plan. Severus and Remus support him.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

You kiss me awake and say, "Draco, It's past noon. You ready to get up?"

"Shower?" I ask.

"Sounds good." You grab the bathrobes and stand up pulling one on and throwing the other to me. "We'll shower and put our memories back then eat."

I follow you to the loo and you turn on the shower as I shut the door behind us. We both shrug out of our robes and you pull me into the shower with you. You wrap a leg around my waist and ask, "Can we start the morning like this?"

"Yes, Merlin, yes." I kiss you slowly. "Please take me, Harry, want you in me."

"Whatever you want." You remove your leg from around my waist. "I think the best way is if you brace yourself against the wall."

I do as you say and I hear you muttering spells, loosening me and opening me up with your fingers, "Fuck," I moan, "feels so good. You always make me feel so good. Love you."

You kiss the back of my neck and say, "You really do feel good." I give a half laugh. "Gotta be inside of you."

"Good, yeah. Please. Harry, I want this so badly."

"Never need to beg." You pant against my back, and you bite down on my shoulder as you enter me. It doesn't hurt, all of it feels so good. You rock into me and you cry out and say, "This is what I wanted. Christ, Draco, love being this close. You make me happy. Love that you're with me. I love being with my best friend."

You thrust into me, "I like being your best friend." I drop my head back onto your shoulder and you kiss my cheek as you start to stroke me. I'm beyond words, just gasping for air. And you moaning in my ear, the noise ricochets off the walls. I come hard and you keep thrusting into me until you come a minute later. You pull out slowly and start to wash my hair before I even turn around.

"Stay still, don't turn around. Let me wash you." You run a flannel down my back and over my arse and gently part my cheeks and wash me off. Kneeling you kiss my hole and lick inside of me which makes me squirm. "Stay still, I'm cleaning you."

"Are you sure you want to do that?"

"Yes, stay still."

I have to lean into the wall just to stay upright. I reach up to rinse my hair out as you lick into me in an imitation of sex and it makes me shudder. "Like that, I do," I pant. I relax into it and just let myself enjoy it. I worry that you wouldn't do this if you had your memories but you wanted this, to be able to act without your memories. You stand up slowly, licking over your lips.

You finish washing my hair and turn me around by pushing at my hips. I start washing your hair as you wash my chest and my armpits. "I really like showering with you. It's becoming my favourite," you say and I laugh happily and easy as we wash each other. You turn off the water and smile, "It's time to face the day and put the memories back."

"Okay," I nod. I dry myself off and hand you a towel before I slip on my robe. I watch as you shrug into your own and then head across the hall to the bedroom. Dressing quickly I watch you do the same. I still like watching you even though now I'm not your stalker. But now I have the right to watch you as much as I like and it's still my favourite activity.

You smile and pick up the Pensieve. "You ready?" I nod but you put our own memories back first. It takes a while and you go grey and then you sigh, "Now you. Brace yourself: it's not good." You return my memories.

And I breathe in harshly, "God, how do you handle that?"

"Just breathe through it; it gets easier: once you remember that it's happened and that that was yesterday. It's not today. Today is ours and I have a really fun idea as to how we can spend it. It's part of my plan. You gave me all those hours yesterday and I have a lot of ideas."

"Okay," I smile shakily. "Food?"

"That sounds good." You head towards the door and I follow you.

We go down to the kitchen. Severus and Remus are sitting there, both looking tired. You walk to the larder and open the door, "Cheese sandwiches?"

"Sounds good," I say. Neither of the men look at us. "Rus, Remus, what's going on?"

Remus finally looks at me, "Silencio, boys. It's a really simple spell. Please."

You laugh as you turn away from the larder with bread, cheese, butter, and pickle. "Always good to start the day on an awkward note. And it's a way better awkward note than the one we closed on last night. Anyone else for a sandwich? We've got tons of bread." Remus and Severus both shake their heads, "How was the paper this morning?"

"Bad as you expected," said Severus. "She got out one more report, exactly what happened in the Great Hall. She has since been captured."

"Have you spoken to Dad?" I ask.

"Yes, he's gone to the Ministry to talk to Kingsley to see what's going to happen. Kingsley has already assured him that you won't be facing charges."

"That's good," you say handing me a plate with a thick sandwich. "I don't think Draco and I are going to go back to school." I nod. "In fact I think, for the first time in my life, I'm going to use my name to get a favour. We're going to take the NEWTs early. There's no way we won't pass. And after that… well, we'll focus on that later, who knows. There's a great spell that makes it so you can speak any language with a perfect accent so if need be we can leg it. We'd rather not do that, obviously, but," You sigh. "We can't do much to counter the articles. They're completely true right down to the details. Talking to the _Quibbler_ won't do any good as there's no way of retracting it. There were too many photos in the _Prophet _to say it's untrue. Besides, it's not good to say that the truth is a lie, then everything gets muddled. But we can move on and just do our best." You sit down with your own sandwich and then ask, "Is there any tea left in the pot or should I make a new one?"

Remus pointed his wand at the pot and it along with two mugs, the sugar, and the milk jug floated over. He started to pour. "You said we were going to do something fun today?" I ask.

"Yes. How do you feel after last night?"

"Completely fine."

"Could you do it again?"

"You can't handle it. Your mind's been your own for less than twelve hours."

"No, not on me. You remember, when we were in Spain looking for a weapon the Order wanted that wasn't there and I was so stressed out and we did it. I felt so much better and I said, 'It could fix anything. Why don't they use it on the Longbottoms?' And you said-"

I interrupt you, "'If it could help them somebody would have done it already.' Madrid, that awful week. I'll go to school and get Neville, we'll need his permission."

"We'll need his gran's too. We'll Floo her once Neville's here. Eat first. It's no good going full steam ahead without a full stomach."

"What, exactly, are you planning on doing?" asks Remus.

"We're gonna do the thing we did last night to the Longbottoms and see if we can't help them," you say.

"How could it help them?" Remus asks.

"Well, I mean, look at me," you say. "Last night the worst thing that could have possibly happened happened and now I'm sitting here eating a sandwich. It pulls down all of your anxiety levels. For hours last night Draco took all of my fear and panic and higher thought into himself and gave my deep subconscious time off, too make plans, to analyze what had happened. It was like months of healing time compressed down because I could be totally logical and happy while having a think about it. And if we could do that to the Longbottoms… there's no telling how good it could be. The problem will be if there's physical damage to their minds but, well, Draco and I can both heal, maybe we can do that to their minds. We just won't know until we try."

"The real question," I say, "is how to link our minds up." Both men look at me with confusion as you nod. "Harry tells me facts when he wants to go under. I tell him predictions. You talk and the other person accepts everything you are saying exactly as you mean it. It makes your minds sympathetic to the point wherein they become one mind and the person who isn't under can take out all the unwanted information from the other person's mind. But how do you do that with someone who is insane?"

You laugh, "A better question than that is how does it work to begin with? I mean, can we do it to each other because we know each other so well and have the same worries or could we do it to anyone? Severus, do you have any ideas?"

Severus shakes his head, "You're the ones who can do it."

"I figured you have probably read more on this than anyone else in the room."

"There isn't much to read. No one's been able to do this since eight hundred and thirty two BC. And the last person was reticent to talk about it."

"Maybe they couldn't," I say, "there's no real way to explain it. I mean, do you understand it anymore now then you did before yesterday?" They both shake their heads. "And yet we're being as forthcoming as possible."

You sigh, "There's only one way to figure it out. Remus, would you be my guinea pig?" Remus nodded. "You're sure? It might hurt like hell and it's a little scary at first when you realize that you aren't really the one in charge. We sort of just stumbled on it and it was very uncomfortable at first."

"Why did you keep doing it?" asks Severus.

"Well," I say, "we didn't realize what we were doing. One of us would start rambling about our worries and then we would feel a lot better and calmer while the other person felt ill. It was only after a while that we figured out that we could do it on purpose. And then it took a little a practice to get it down."

"So, do you still want to help, Remus?"

"Of course," Remus nods, "Of course I do. But, um, what do I do?"

You swallow the last of your sandwich before saying, "Kneel or sit on the floor in front of me." You turn your chair so that its back is to the table.

"How does that help? You couldn't have discovered it like this," says Rus.

"Practice," you say, "we learned that you need eye contact, that the person who is getting the holiday should be looking up at the other person, that it's easier with your hands on one another, and that if you're on the floor to begin with you can't fall over once you slip under. Drop all of your shields; it makes it a lot easier. Trust me."

Remus kneels in front of you and I stand up. "Severus, this is a very private thing. Why don't we step out for a few minutes?" Severus nods and follows me out and up the stairs. "It can be a little intense," I say once we're in the drawing room. "He might cry a little."

"How are you, Dragon?"

I shake my head, "Hanging in there. But if we could help the Longbottoms, well, it might make all of this feel a little better. I feel impotent. There's nothing I can do for him right now and I want to fix it. I haven't felt this useless since the war and I don't like it."

"No," says Rus softly, "No one does. You'll get through this and I will do everything I can to help you both."

"Thank you, we just need to get through this, just ford ahead until it's over. You slept here last night."

"I was worried about you both."

"Remus is a very good looking man."

"That's ridiculous."

"At some point in time you get sick of living with your best friend and grieving over a war and realize that life moves on. Then you see this guy who's just as damaged, and attractive, and kind. Even though you've never seen eye to eye, well the war is over and things change, and maybe you've changed because the world has."

"Ridiculous."

"I've been watching you since you turned up. And maybe it's a friendship, maybe I'm wrong and it's just friendship. But whatever it is it's not a bad thing."

Severus sighed and said, "Do you really think you could heal the Longbottoms?"

"Yes, completely. I believe we could make them whole. Although, I feel like we might need a hell of a lot of that potion you brought me last night. It's not a race it's a marathon. I've never met them but I know that they're pretty well catatonic. There's going to be a lot of work."

"Could you take a preemptive healing potion?" I shrugged. "Well, if I gave you a healing you could take it, try this trance thing on me and see if it had any benefit."

"That's a good idea, let's first see if Harry can put Remus under." And then I hear you in my head say, "You can come down; it's over." I smile at Severus and say, "Harry says he's done. Let's go see if it worked."

We walk back down and Remus is rosy cheeked, looking much better, "It worked," he says, "I feel like I actually slept last night. It wasn't painful."

You give me a wry smile, "I think we worked out all the kinks on each other. He was only under for a minute."

"Good, that's good: we don't want to hurt the Longbottoms," I nod to myself. "Rus has thought of a new experiment. We could take the healing potion beforehand."

You nod, "That might work." You look a bit grey but you'll be fine in twenty minutes, even the most limited contact with someone else's mind like this. While Legilimency is more invasive it's not painful for the user. Just like healing is more tiring than killing protecting a mind is more difficult and strenuous than breaking one. You swallow your tea and breathe through your nose.

Severus produces a vial of the potion he used last night, "Small sip," he says and holds it out to me.

I take a tiny amount and feel it course through me. Last night it hadn't felt like this because I was so badly injured now it just feels amazing. It makes me feel like I'm on a high. I roll my head on my neck, "I'm ready."

He kneels without any preamble while you and Remus leave quickly, "So what do I do?" he asks.

I rest my hands on him, keeping eye contact. "Relax, take down your shields, I won't look for anything."

"Did you and he take down your blocks? During the war I mean?"

"Ours slipped a little back then, we were too anxious back then and not as disciplined, the tops ones faltered when we were stressed. We didn't even realize. Clearly we didn't let them all down, the ones that we made to block our feelings." I watch as he takes them down, see the concentration. His are so tightly ingrained in his mind that it takes a moment. "When you're ready you just start talking."

"About what?"

"Whatever you want me to understand, it's up to you. Why don't you tell me what's going through your mind: what's true to you. Be honest, it doesn't work when you lie."

"I'm worried about you, both of you; I'm worried about your plan. I don't like that Harry is going to trade on his name he shouldn't have to."

"Rus," I interrupt gently, "Relax, you're tense."

"How can I relax? With all this going on, how can I, Dragon?"

"Just trust me. Trust me to take care of this. Believe that I can do this."

I see something shift in his eyes, he's no less tense just more open, "I am ashamed of how I treated him from the moment I met him. I'm ashamed of not realizing what was happening. I am ashamed of trusting Dumbledore and disgusted that he refused to see it when he knew so much more. I am ashamed of how I learned his secret. I am ashamed that he felt he had to keep it a secret." I see the moment he goes under, the way his face loosens. I don't stop him from talking even though I'm overwhelmed with the feeling of stress that washes over my mind. "I never stopped leaning on him, not even on the battlefield. He didn't deserve that, no one does. I broke him down on purpose for no reason. I just didn't like him."

"But you're making up for it." He nods, slowly drowsily. "Deep breaths, breathe with me," I breathe slowly and he matches it perfectly, I control it. "That's good, nice, keep that up. It's all going to be okay. I'm going to take care of it. Harry and I are going to have a nice day and then we're going to go stay in a great hotel, for a good long time and regroup. It's going to be fun, a wonderful vacation and we're not going to think about any of this. If you and Remus want to come up with a plan while we're away that would be good but don't stress out. Now come back up, time to wake up." I feel our minds disengage and I feel none of the after effects. I feel no pain, none of his stress lingering in my head. But he still looks relaxed, rested.

"How do you feel?" I ask him.

"Amazing," he says sounding shocked. "How do you feel?"

"Absolutely fine. Can you dose us before we start?"

"Yes. A larger dose than the one you just took. Should help a bit."

"Awesome," I smile feeling relieved, "That's great." I speak to you in the back of my mind, "Babe, it worked. Come down?"

"No," you say, "you come up and I'll send Remus down. Want you for a minute."

I smile and say aloud, "Remus is coming down. I have to go upstairs for a little while."

He looks at me, surprised, "I thought you were going to get to the Longbottoms right away."

"We need to be calm so we need a little time to be alone." Severus raises an eyebrow and I smirk before going upstairs. I pass Remus on the stairs, he still looks relaxed, he smiles at me, a small smile of support. "Bedroom?" I ask silently.

"Yeah, come here. I'm already naked." I sort of jog up the last few stairs. And open the door to find you with the covers pulled back.

"You are gorgeous," I say standing there, almost frozen.

"Shut the door," you say softly. I do as you say. "Now strip nice and slow."

I start to undo the buttons of my robe and you watch me, drinking it in, I shrug the outer layer off of my shoulders and you say nothing. I pull off my boots and socks and take off my inner robes, standing naked I ask, "Is this was you want?"

"I want you to come lie with me and make out and just stay here for a little while." I come to the bed and kiss you very slowly, "I like that," you say against my mouth, licking my lips and licking into my mouth. "Just this," you pull me into bed and close to you, playing your fingers over my chest and tangling our legs together.

You don't ask if that's okay; don't check that it's what I want. And I'm glad, glad that you're making decisions and not doubting yourself. In my bedroom, only days ago, you asked if it was okay to be together and not have sex and now your confident in what you want. We share air as we kiss and curl together. "So good," I say softly as we break apart. "We don't even need a silencing spell for this." You laugh and it's a happy noise. We lie silent for a while, just cuddling, kissing, and stroking each other's skin. "How are you, baby?"

You sigh, "I love the endearments they make me feel so loved, so good."

"You are loved," I stroke your hair.

"I'm okay, when it's like this, when it's you and me. I don't think we should still go to the hotel. I think we need to be with family. As much as I dislike Christmas I don't think we can just bugger off. I think we should have a Christmas here. Your dad and Remus have never had a problem with each other and Severus and Remus are getting along. We were supposed to go to the castle for Christmas dinner but why don't we just have it here? Once we see how it goes with the Longbottoms we can invite them. And Blaise, of course. How does that sound?"

I nod, slowly and unsure, "That could be fun. But can we still go on holiday?"

"Absolutely, I want to go some place warm."

"Sounds awesome. Anywhere in particular you want to stay?"

You shrug and slowly detangle yourself from me and crawl down the bed to an old school chest which must have been Sirius' you open it and root through it finding something flat and square wrapped in a cloth. You come back and say, "It's a two way mirror," as you unwrap it, "but I don't know where the mate is and," the mirror is badly broken and you look at it so longingly, "I didn't use it when I should have. But I use it a lot as a blank slate." You reach for your wand and run it over the surface, lazily.

I sit up and pull you so you're between my legs and I rest my chin on your shoulder, "Sirius?"

"If I'd called him on this and not spoken to Kretcher he'd still be alive." I kiss your neck and you lean back against me, still trailing your wand along the broken mirror. You lift your wand off and then touch it with the very tip. And images start popping up, hotels on beaches, in sunny cities, gorgeous country sides, and then there it was: Disney World. Harry had seen it, in movies, and Hermione had gone one summer with her parents and came back gushing. "Disney World, the most magical place on earth. That's where we should go."

"I thought you wanted to hide among Muggles."

"It is Muggle. It's just the closest Muggle's can get to magic. Can we go there? Please?"

"Wherever you want, sweetheart." I run my hands over your ribs and you rest your head on my shoulder.

"I like sex when I don't have my memories because none of it is scary. Not that I don't love sex with you when I know who I am, it's just, I can do things with you when I don't think that I can't do yet when I'm fully me. When I don't have my memories, don't ask me if I'm sure about sex. I want to try everything again, and see how it feels with love, see if I like it. It feels good and I can experiment without being even the least bit scared." You turn your head to kiss my jaw then say, "We should go, get started." You stand and I allow my hands to trail over your skin. You smile and lean down to kiss me. "I love that you see me like this."

"I love getting to see you like this. You're so gorgeous."

I kiss you again and you pull back saying, "Get dressed."

I stand and put my robes back on and say, "I'll go to the castle and get Neville. It might take a while. I have to talk to my dad so maybe a couple of hours."

"I'll set up Disney and… gather myself."

"Are you going to be okay?" I ask softly.

You nod, "I'm going to do a lot of shop keeping. But would you do me a favour and shrink all my stuff and bring it back here? I don't want to go back there."

"Of course, I'll bring Hedwig back with me."

"Thank you."

* * *

Hey guys! Would you be very kind and send me some feedback? I'm not hearing from people and I'm curious as to what people are thinking. I don't mean to sound needy… but I'm really needy.


	26. 26

Title: The Boy Who Survived

Writer: Azure K Mello ()

Part: 26/?

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Overall plot: what does it take to make Harry trust his stalker?

Segment plot: Harry visits Kingsley.

Disclaimer: please don't sue me. I have no money and I don't pretend to own these things.

* * *

Once you leave I take a moment to breathe. Then I go downstairs to the kitchen where Remus and Severus are sitting. "Are you guys freaking out down here?" and Remus just sort of nods at me. "Okay," I sit down between them and speak to Remus. "Draco and I were going to come to you for Christmas Eve and then you were going to come to the Castle for Christmas Day and then Draco and I were going to check into a hotel for the last few days of the holiday and go back to school. That was the plan." Remus nods. "That is no longer a viable plan."

"Well, as you don't like it, we could just cancel then you and Draco can run away faster." He means it to be a kind offer but it hurts. I never wanted anyone to know that I dislike Christmas. When was faking it I could fool myself into thinking it was good but it's harder to do it now that Remus knows the truth.

"No, let's have Christmas. I want to. How do you feel about doing Christmas here? I mean, Neville's family is going to be kind of out of it. Blaise stayed just to be a solid front for Draco and me. I know it's short notice but it doesn't have to be big or fancy. But would it be alright with you? It's ten people."

"Of course that's fine. I'll go shopping while you're at the hospital."

"Are you sure? It's going to be bedlam."

"It'll be a distraction." He gives me a small smile and then seems to think, to weigh his options then he reaches out and pats my cheek and it's not terrible. His hands were never terrible and I lean into the touch. "We'll have a good Christmas, okay? We'll do it together."

I turn in my chair and hug him briefly, "Thank you." I release him slowly and say, "Draco's getting Neville but it's going to take a while. I'm going to go see Kingsley."

"Do you want me to come?" asks Remus.

"I'd rather do this on my own. But thanks." I stand and go to the fireplace. Taking a pinch of powder from the bowl on the mantle place I throw it into the flames and say, "Minister of Magic's private office, the Ministry." I step in and feel the shields that are meant to keep a person from Flooing into Kingsley's office but I just lean into them. I step out of the hearth and Kingsley looks at the men sitting around his desk.

"If you'll excuse us, gentleman. We can pick this up later." The men leave.

"I'm sorry, Kingsley, I didn't mean to interrupt and it's a vulgar show of power to just push through the Ministry's protection spells. I just didn't want to have to see people."

"Harry, I figured you'd come. If I'd wanted to keep you out I would have put a lock on my Floo. That wouldn't have kept you out but I know you would have knocked… You were right."

"About what?"

"I was frightened of you. You just always seemed so upbeat but I could tell you weren't and I didn't know what you were actually thinking."

"And now?"

"You're thinking that this sucks. Which it really does," he smiles and it is genuine. "I'm not afraid of you anymore. Sit down," he says gesturing to one of the chairs across from his desk. "How are you holding up?"

I sit down and sigh, "We're just hiding out. Which has been fine. Y'know, just me and Draco, and Snape, and Remus. That makes it easier. Not having to see people's reactions. I don't even know if I could deal with Mr. Malfoy, I don't really know him and it's sort of weird to be like, 'Hey, we've never spoken but I'm dating your son and hey, have you read the paper?' I don't know."

"Harry, I can't imagine what you're feeling or how you've dealt with this."

Shrugging I say, "That's probably for the best." I smile and say, "I need some Ministry help and I know that it's below you but I'm kind of freaked out about telling anyone about my plans."

"I don't mind. I always wanted to trust you, I really did. And now, well, anyway I can help, I should have trusted you. Draco's not going to Azkaban, they deserved what they got and it's no worse than the Dementor's kiss which they would have gotten if we knew. Look at the law books, it's what we do. So how can I help?"

"We want to take our NEWTs early, February if possible. And also we need some Muggle documents, English passports, we want to go to Disneyworld."

"I can handle all of that. I'll say you're both twenty-one, you should be allowed to drink on holiday, you're legal here."

I force a smile, "Thanks."

"I'll get you passports and drivers licenses. And I'll proctor your tests if I can't get someone to do it. I owe you and Draco for the times we were in the field we all nearly died." He falls silent.

"Let's just hope it's over. If he came back… I don't think I could do it again, especially not after the paper. I was under enough scrutiny the first time I don't think I could do it. I mean the act was bad enough, I ripped him to shreds. But having people know makes it worse. The paper was really accurate."

"I know. It was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen. You were covered in his blood and tearing his body apart and so calm."

"I couldn't freak out. There was too much riding on it. I couldn't freak out until I was alone. I didn't have a choice. It was the only way… I was drenched to the skin in blood. After all that I really hoped I wouldn't have to be famous anymore."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault. Draco and I will run away to Disney and have a good time right up until our NEWTs, we don't need to study after everything."

"No, you don't."

"May I also borrow your owl? Hedwig is in Scotland and I need to write to the bank."

"Yes, that's fine, would you like a cup of tea?"

"That would be lovely. Am I keeping you from dreadfully important things?"

"Even the Minister for Magic is allowed down time." He conjures a teapot, cups, and a plate of biscuits. "I liked you even when I was afraid of you." He pours the tea and I see that it already has the milk and sugar in it. He hands me some parchment and I reach into my pocket for my self-inking quill. Instead I feel paper and pull it out. A thousand pounds in large notes. I just stare at it. I hadn't reached into my pocket, had worn jeans for most of the time. I swallow, looking at it and feeling ill. "What do you want to do about that?"

"Spend it in Disney. He profited off on me why I shouldn't I spend this on candy and souvenirs and maid service?"

He smiles at me, "Okay, okay." He hands me a quill and I write quickly, asking for the bills enclosed to be returned in American Muggle money and asking for a plastic Muggle debit card connected to my account. I put it all into an envelope and put an antitheft charm on the envelope.

Attaching it to the owls leg I say, "Would you bring that to Gringotts, please?" The bird hoots and Kingsley opens the window. Looking at the man I say, "Would you like to come to Christmas at my house?"

"That would be lovely, thank you." He pulled out official letterhead paper that clearly had a vanishing spell on it. "Drink your tea while I sort this out."

"We're also going to go to St. Mungo's this afternoon, just to let you know."

"You don't need to let me know your movements. But why are you going to St. Mungo's?" And I tell him about the mind meld and how we didn't know how old it was and how we could use it to help the Longbottoms. He doesn't look up from his work, the ink continually disappearing, words going to somewhere else in the Ministry, "Do you think it could work?"

"I wouldn't give Neville hope if I thought it wouldn't work," I say with a shrug.

"Awesome. How does February tenth, eleventh, and twelfth sound for your NEWTs?" he asked as words started appearing on the parchment.

"Sounds great," I reply. I sip my tea and eat a biscuit as he keeps working. A very old watch, clearly broken appears near his elbow.

He reaches for the watch and holds it out to me, "This is a Portkey, set the watch to twelve and it activates, focus on where you want to be and it will take you there. You don't need to visualize the location."

"Thanks."

Two small boxes appear on his desk. "These will allow you to talk to Remus while you're away. Put a note or object in one box, shut the lid, it goes to the other which will glow."

"Thanks," I nod, "that's great." The bird flies back in with a new envelope. I untie it from the owl's leg and open it there's a ton of foreign money, a debit card and a hand written card with conversions pounds to dollars to galleons in all different combinations.

Then two Muggle passports appear on his desk with drivers licenses on top. "They look completely real, will pass any inspection, already stamped as though you've been through immigration."

"Wow, thank you. This is all wonderful." I reach for the passports.

"This holiday is seventeen years overdue."

"I should go. We need to talk to Neville and his gran, see if they want us to do this. Christmas Day?"

"I'll be there. Anything I can bring?"

"Nope, just yourself," I smile as I stand.

I gather everything together and Kingsley hands me a bag from behind his desk. "You have a good day."

"Thanks, you too." I take a pinch of Floo powder from the dish on the mantel place.


End file.
